


Fate and Dragons

by genericfanatic



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Dragon Eggs, Execution, Former Slaves, Found Family, Meereen, Mentions of Sex, Moral Ambiguity, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Shit, Unsullied - Freeform, that is not metaphorical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 07:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18890386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genericfanatic/pseuds/genericfanatic
Summary: When Daenerys leaves Meereen, it falls to ruffians and mercenaries, much like the man she left in charge, Daario Naharis. While Slavery is outlawed, the former slaves struggle to get by.That is the fate of Razmarra and her friends, a disabled Unsullied-Trained soldier, a former whore, and a gutter rat who barely speaks. Until one day, they find that ash and shit weren't all the dragons left behind---they left 4 dragon eggs. And so, their fate changes forever.





	1. The Finding

Razmarra smacked the mule on the ass and felt momentary relief as it carried the cartful of dung away from her and out to the sea. She waited, under the guise of supervising the cart and its driver, the lucky bastard. He got to leave here. 

Finally the cart was far enough away she got a full lungful of clean air, or, as clean as it could get. The scent clung to her nose, but all the same she opened her mouth and took in as much as she could fit in her chest before her head got dizzy. She let it out in a huff, took one more quick breath, and dived back into the hall. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” Londa Do said, using her shovel to keep herself up. Her hair that she tried to maintain with limited resources was completely disheveled, black curls flying out of her makeshift headcloth.

“Yes you can,” Raz said without inflection. She was tired too, but she picked up her shovel and kept digging, filling up a new cart with dung. 

The Queen’s dragons, or 2 of them anyway, had lived beneath the city for months, all alone. As noble and majestic and dangerous as these creatures were, they still shit. They shit a lot. Raz had lived with all kinds of animals all her life and she’d never seen a pile of shit so high.

Besides that, the dragons seemed to try and BURY their shit, like cats. Now, if everything were up to Raz, she’d sat to just scrape off the top layer and let the buried shit stay buried, but the mercenary king, Daario Naharis, the interim ruler of Meereen apparently had “””plans””” for this pit, once it was cleaned and repaired. Something about another fighting pit or something. He wasn’t really king, and no longer a mercenary, but as Meereen had yet to choose it’s own rulers, he gave enough commands to garner the nickname.

“I can’t,” Londa whined, her shovel tipping precariously, “I’m going to faint! I wasn’t built for this kind of work!”

“At least the shit won’t fuck you like your last work.” Red Fly muttered, pretending to keep his voice low, but ensuring it was loud enough for his compatriots to hear.

Despite her proclaimed exhaustion, Londa turned grimacing at her supposed ‘friend,’ ready to hit him with a shovel despite the fact he was twice her size. “At least I can fuck, One-Leg.” She spat at him.

Red Fly swiveled on his wooden leg, raising his shovel as though to hit her. “Don’t call me—“ Raz put a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head. He gave her one last look of disgust, before taking several mini steps to get himself situated in his original position, equidistant between a pile of shit and the cart so he didn’t have to move his legs as he dug up a shovelful and tossed it in.

“I mean it though,” Londa continued as she picked herself up, reluctantly scooping off small piles of the shit and dropping them on the cart, barely making dents in the pile, “This job is meant to be done by men, strong men. Look at me.” She spread her arms out so they could see her skinny arms, fabric rucked up and falling in disarray over her shoulders, her skirt which had been a light tan was now brown from the shit.

“Raz isn’t a man,” Red Fly said, “She’s doing more work than any of us.”

“Raz isn’t a woman either, she’s a mule.” Londa said, her face screwed up. Londa was not the first to call her a mule, and Raz had stopped getting offended by it. Her old master had called her ‘Brown Mule’ almost affectionately, like he might for a pet. She was strong, stronger than a lot of the boys, and tall for a girl, though not enough to be considered towering. As for the ‘brown’ part, she had heard the joke multiple times that she was just one giant color. Her eyes, her skin, her hair, even the shift she wore was all one shade of brown, and not the warm, well-maintained dark brown of Londa’s skin, but a brown made from the sun and dirt that made up Raz’s life. 

“Wa, Aaah!” Raz and Red Fly looked up to see Londa land headfirst in the pile of dung. Beside her, the young Miklaz smirked innocently. Too innocently. 

Londa growled at the boy, “You fucker, you’ll pay for that!” She launched herself at the boy, easily knocking him down into the pile with an ugly squishing sound. Miklaz screamed as Londa tried to push his face in the shit, his open mouth only causing more problems.

Raz ran over, Red Fly limping behind her. It was easy to pull Londa off, she truly was skinny. Miklaz scrambled out of the shit and made it to the dirt, spitting and wiping what he could off of him. 

Londa tried to fight Raz off but absolutely couldn’t. “Enough!” Raz yelled at her. “If you want to leave fine, but you won’t get any of the money out of it.”

Londa whined, her shoulders slumping. The only thing worse than the idea of continuing working was the idea of not getting paid for the work she’d already done. Glumly, she gripped her sleeve and wiped her face as best she could, a comedic drop still attached to her nose. She looked disgusted at her sleeve and scowled up at Raz. “You owe me a new dress.”

Raz released her, assured she wasn’t going to have another temper tantrum. “I told you to wear something practical.” The both of them went back to shoveling. Londa even dug up more on her shovel than before. 

“You told me we were going to a high paying job at the Pyramids. I thought it was for something cleaner.” Londa took out her frustration on the shovel, newly invigorated with her own misery. 

“It IS a high paying job.” Raz said, “It’s the only way they could get anyone to do it.”

Londa huffed. Red Fly was finally convinced that it was safe now, and resumed his post.   
Londa took another break for herself, this time for a swig of her waterskin. Raz left her alone this time. 

Londa stuck out her tongue, shaking the waterskin for its last few drops. She groaned again, as though the lack of water was a personal offense against her. “I’m going for a refill, anyone want anything more?”

Miklaz and Red Fly shook their heads. “I’m fine,” Raz said, not looking up from her work.

Londa rolled her eyes backing away, “Bunch of camels…” she muttered, making her way past the other workers in the dark room. 

“She’s causing trouble again,” Red Fly said to Raz as soon as Londa was out of earshot.

“She’s complaining,” Raz said, “She likes to complain, its an easy way to hear herself talk.”

“She’s slowing us down.” Red Fly protested.

Raz smirked at him, looking down at his wooden leg and thinking of the obvious comment she could make about being slowed down, but swallowed it instead. “She’s smart. All she talks about might be complaining, but it’s complaining in three languages. That’s useful.”

“I wish she’d complain in a language I didn’t understand.” Red Fly said. 

Raz chuckled, “Well, she may not have the discipline of an Unsullied, but you should know we all have to stick together. She’s stuck herself with us. As long as it’s just complaining, I don’t mind.”

Red Fly grunted, unsatisfied. “I’m not Unsullied.”

“Close enough,” Raz said. 

“No,” he insisted. “I didn’t finish training. It’s dishonorable to say I’m saying something when I didn’t earn it.”

“Alright then, fine,” Raz conceded, “You’re one dead baby short of being an Unsullied. I don’t recommend finishing that training with our current powers in charge.”

“Never!” He protested, offended at the very idea of doing something that would go against the Queen’s wishes. 

“Alright, calm down,” Raz told her. “I wasn’t doubting you.” 

Raz wasn’t entirely sure how she had gone from working as a slave in Meereen’s stables to becoming sort-of in charge of a half-trained disabled Unsullied, a whiny former whore, and a gutter rat, but here they were. All four lived in a shelter with hundreds of other former slaves, all of them trying to get work, paying work to live by. There weren’t enough paying jobs yet, though, so they sometimes worked in groups. These three had attached themselves to Raz, and even with all of Londa’s complaining, she didn’t have any reason to send them away.

In the distance they heard a thump of something falling on the ground. That something seemed to be Londa, tripping over upturned dirt. “Oh, damn it to all the hells,” Londa said, “I found another stash.”

Stash was the word they were using for the ‘buried treasure’ the dragons had left for them, usually bones. Red Fly and Miklaz looked to Raz, who sighed, thinking. “Let’s take care of the stash quickly, then we can get back to chipping at the pile.” Raz nodded Miklaz over to Red Fly, and the small boy quickly ran over to help Red Fly limp over to Londa, using his shovel as a crutch. Raz wheeled over their cart.

Londa had already started digging at the dirt, her face a constant scowl. “How did my life come to this?” She was bemoaning to herself, “Up to my waist in dragon dung. Stinkin’ dragons. Literally, I think we could make a whole new dragon out of just their shit.”

“Those dragons are the reason you are free,” Red Fly said, “Unless, of course, you didn’t want to be freed.”

Londa tossed a shovel full of dirt at him. “How dare you! I wanted to be free just as much as you are. You know, being a concubine isn’t all fancy silks and perfumes and all.” 

“Sure, you get the good food too,” Red Fly said.

Londa tossed another shovel full of dirt at him, and quite frankly Raz considered it lucky that the girl didn’t try fighting him. “Don’t you ever say things like that again.” She said, poison in her voice, and Red Fly finally got it through his head he had perhaps taken things a step too far. 

Londa dug with a vengeance, cursing in a language the other three could not understand except for the occasional word, like “Khaleesi,” “Dirty Hell,” and “New Dress.”

Miklaz stopped shoveling, watching Londa. He tapped Raz on the arm insistently. When he achieved Raz’ attention, she bent down, letting him whisper in her ear.

“Londa,” Raz said, her eyes going wide as she saw what Miklaz saw, “Londa stop.”

“And don’t get me STARTED on this whole mercenary king guy, as far as I’m concerned he can go straight to—“

“Londa, stop!” Raz urge, grabbing her shovel and pushing it aside.

“Hey! What do you—“ Londa finally stopped speaking as Raz dived down into the dirt.

Using her fingers, Raz pulled away the dirt hiding the object Londa had uncovered. It blended in well with the ground, but it was just slightly a darker shade than the dirt. It was a small, round stone the size of a cat, and covered in scales.

“It’s a dragon—Mmph!” Red Fly exclaimed, Londa quickly covering his mouth before he could say anything too loudly. 

Raz beckoned them all closer. Londa helped Red Fly kneel. Cautiously, Londa removed her hand from Red Fly’s mouth. “We can’t just go announcing stuff like that,” Raz chastised Red Fly. “It’ll cause a riot in here.” 

They looked around at the other workers shoveling shit. “What do we do?” Londa asked.

Raz considered the dragon egg in her hand. “Keep digging. See if there’s any more, then we’ll bring them back to the shelter and decide what to do there.” All three of the others nodded. “Quietly,” Raz reminded them. They nodded again.


	2. What do with Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 4 of them discuss what to do with their new discovery

Four. They found four dragon eggs in the stash. 

It had been tricky, but they wrapped them up in a bundle of Londa’s clothing, (Londa was being rather smug about how her clothing had come in useful) and had Londa pretend to faint, so Red Fly could help her out of the pyramids and take her down to the shelter.

“Why do I have to go with him?” Londa demanded.

“Because if you’ve ‘fainted’ you can’t make it there on your own,” Raz explained, “Plus, I trust Red Fly to stop you from taking all of them and running to the highest bidder.”

Londa opened her mouth to protest, but, finding the explanation fair, went with it.

Raz and Miklaz stayed and worked the rest of their shift, as Raz had been doing over half the work for the four of them anyway. 

They weren’t released until nightfall, and Raz felt a fire under her skin. She had been a slave for 17 years, and yet these past few hours had been the longest of her life. She took Miklaz’s hand and practically dragged him through the streets back home with their coins in her bag. Miklaz, still very young and small, had to run to keep step with her. Normally she’d slow for him, but she couldn’t be concerned. 

Londa and Red Fly were in a deep and quiet argument as Raz and Miklaz made their way to the little corner the four of them had carved out for each other. They had to intimidate some people to get it, but while he was slow, Red Fly was still trained as an Unsullied, and the people had learned not to go against the Unsullied if they could help it. It was an advantageous position, gaining slightly more privacy, and two walls they could use to guard against potential thieves, a problem in the area.

“There you are,” Londa said, as Raz came up, “Would you please talk some sense into him?”

“It’s the right thing to do,” He said obstinately, with the tone of someone who said it a lot very recently.

“Uggh,” Londa groaned. “You’re so…so…”

“Moral?”

“Annoying.” Londa snarled at him. 

“Where are they?” Raz said, stopping their argument in its tracks. 

Londa tapped her clothing bundle with her foot. Raz could just make out the rounded point of one of the eggs. “Let me see them,” Raz commanded.

Londa looked around, making sure no one was watching them, then casually stood between her and the bag. 

Raz carefully unwrapped the cloth bundle, being sure not to disturb any of them. 

The eggs were nearly equal in size, covered in dirt, but their color shone through. The largest was a warm red, not a deep blood red, but more like a warm ember of a forge, with yellow-orange edges hidden deep below. The smallest was silver, or perhaps light grey. It was hard to tell the difference. If she didn’t know what it was, she might have said it rusted over with the black accents along the sides. The second smallest was gold, definitely gold and not yellow from the way it shone. Raz hadn’t seen much gold in her life, but she was keenly aware of what it looked like, the thing that she craved for so many years.

The last one was the first egg they found, the one that blended in so well with the dirt, Raz wondered if she touched it, might it break down into a pile on the ground. This egg had no accents of other colors, average size compared to the others, no remarkable points to it at all, except for what it was.

“One-leg here says we should turn them over to the Mercenary King.” Londa said, full of disgust. 

“That’s not what I said,” Red Fly grumbled, “And I told you to stop calling me that. All I’m saying, is if we take them to Daario Naharis, he can get them on a ship and take them to the Mother of Dragons.”

“Grandmother of Dragons, now,” Londa joked, mostly to herself. 

Red Fly did not laugh. “They belong with their own kind.”

“They’re WITH their own kind.” Londa gestured, “Look, there’s four of them. The majority of dragons in the WORLD is right here.”

“Keep your voice down,” Raz chastised. 

Londa swallowed, screwing up her face the way she did when she wanted to argue with Raz but knew she was right. “If we sell these, we could be richer than all the masters. The Queen bought you and all the other Unsullied with ONE dragon. Imagine all we could do with four.”

“You cannot sell a dragon,” Red Fly said, “I was there, that is what the Queen said to the masters. A dragon is not property. Besides, what do you think someone would do with these dragons? What if a master bought them? They would be unstoppable, and we’d be responsible. They belong with the Queen.”

“Mhysa already has dragons,” Raz said, low, as she covered the eggs up once more. They formed a circle, their heads down. “We can’t sell them. Red Fly’s right, whoever controls the dragons could take over the world, like Mhysa did, but they wouldn’t have her mercy. It’s too big of a risk.”

Londa’s face fell, forlorn, “But—“

“That’s why we have to be the ones to raise them.” 

That shut them both up straight away. It was almost comical, the both of them who had different opinions about everything from the weather to the gods, and yet they had the exact same expression or outrage and awestruck on their very different faces. 

“Are you serious—“

“You can’t really mean—“

“Keep. Your voices. Down.” She hissed through her teeth. “Didn’t you ever listen do stories as a child?” Red Fly gave him a look like ‘are you kidding me?’ “Okay, except for you.”

“Sure,” Londa said, “My mother told me stories about how if I kept my head down the slavers wouldn’t drag me from my home. And she was wrong.”

“Well, I heard stories, from the old men and women around. They talked all about magic and destiny and everything surrounding it. They said in the days of magic, the gods left signs for us. They told stories about people, ordinary people, who would find items of such power that it dragged them up out of their ordinary lives and onto something greater.”

“Gods are more trouble than they’re worth,” Londa sighed leaning back. 

Red Fly resumed his normal attitude ‘disgusted with Londa.’ “How can you say that, after the Red God chose our Queen—“

“Oh for the love of the Queen, would you shut up about the Queen?” Londa demanded.

“Enough,” Raz was ready to gag them both. “Look, there are four eggs, and four of us. We found them. Don’t you think that means something?”

“It means dragons are horny bastards who get bored when they’re locked up,” Londa said. 

“You want riches, right?” Raz said to her, “Power? To do whatever you want because you want it? Selling the dragons will give you a taste, a way to buy those things, but with a dragon at your side you could take it. How did the masters become the masters? They took it. And Mhysa took it back. Now we have the power to keep it out of their hands now that she’s gone.”

“Daario Naharis—“

“Daario Naharis is a fool,” Raz stopped Red Fly in his tracks, “A good natured fool, but he is not so different from the masters as he thinks. He used to fight for them. Now he no longer has Mhysa there to temper him. But look at us. Red Fly, you know fighting and the military. Londa, you know how to charm any man in the city.”

“Any man but this one,” Londa said, pointing her thumb at Red Fly.

“And Miklaz and I, we know the streets. The people. We’ve been here all our lives.” Miklaz hesitated, in a staring contest with his feet, but he blindly nodded. “We can rule over the whole city, over all of Dragon’s Bay. Or we can put people in charge who will do what we want, what Mhysa would do if she was here.”

Londa and Red Fly exchanged hesitant looks. Raz looked between the two of them so rapidly she thought she might get sick. Lacking any argument against her, Red Fly gave a stiff nod, and Londa sighed dramatically before saying, “All right. So. What do we do?”


	3. Truth in the flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four attempt to hatch the eggs, and discuss their past.

“This isn’t what I had in mind,” Londa said the next night. 

They had Red Fly fake pains in his leg that day so that he could remain behind, guarding the eggs. Raz made him promise no matter what he thought that he would keep them secret and wouldn’t tell anyone. She felt a bit bad, Red Fly had come to think of her as his new commander, and she didn’t like to abuse that position, but this was of the utmost importance. 

Meanwhile, Londa, Raz, and Miklaz all went back to the pyramid to shovel more of the dragon dung. The room was emptying out quickly, and the supervisor who worked for Daario Naharis seemed impressed. It left them tired and exhausted, but at least they were reasonably sure no one knew about their discovery.

At night, they took the eggs in a make shift sack and took them out of the city, a little ways into the desert where they could be reasonably sure any late night passing travelers wouldn’t come by…hopefully. 

Londa was not pleased with the plan. “I’m TIRED!” She complained, “We’ve been doing back-breaking work ALL day, I just want to get some rest.”

“Well, if you don’t WANT a dragon, you can go back,” Raz said.

Londa gave her signature groan, lying on her back as the other three gathered sticks. “It’s not like the eggs would go away if we just got some rest.” She lifted her head, like a thought just occurred to her. “They…won’t go away will they?”

“I don’t know,” Raz said, “Most animals with eggs have like…a gestation period, or something. But there are tales of unhatched dragons that simply turn to stone over the years.” She took a deep sigh, “They’re magic creatures, so…I’m guessing they need some sort of magic to hatch, hence…” She gestured to the fire she was setting. “If you’re not going to help with the fire, would you get the eggs?”

Londa whined, but did as was told, retrieving the sack and taking out the eggs one by one. “This one’s mine, I think,” She said, holding the golden egg in her hands.

“You just like anything gold,” Red Fly said, piling up the logs.

“What’s wrong with that?” Londa cradled her chosen egg to her chest like it was her baby. “Here, One-Leg, this one’s yours.” She took out the Red egg and placed it in the sand in his direction.

Red Fly frowned. “Don’t I get to choose?”

Londa rolled her eyes dramatically, not believing he could be so thick as to even ask. “Your name is RED Fly from the RED city of Astapor, and you worship the RED god. It may as well have your name written on it, not that you could read it.”

Red Fly grimaced, but didn’t argue the choice. 

“Now this one,” Londa said, removing the brown egg, “HAS to go to the Brown Mule of Meereen. Talk about destiny.” 

Raz actually smiled at that. The brown one was the one she wanted anyway. She wondered if she had reached the point of being proud of her childhood nickname. She imagined waving a banner like the Queen or one of the Lords, and instead of one of their froofy animals it was a simple brown mule, plain like her, mocking the extravagancy of the Masters. She would like that. She’d have to investigate once they had the money for getting a banner.

“And this one’s for you,” Londa said to Miklaz, taking out the last egg, the silver one. “I can’t match up a color, unless I suppose grey for the grim streets, but at the least its small, like you.”

Miklaz smiled, accepting Londa’s choice just as well as Raz had. 

Red Fly put the last log on the fire. “That should be enough.” He began rubbing friction against the kindling, getting a spark in a matter of minutes. 

Once he waved the fire big enough, they each took their egg and put it on the fire.

Then they sat back.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Predictably, Londa was the first one to get restless. “Maybe we need to turn them? Make sure the heat reaches them evenly?”

Shrugging, as he had no better ideas, Red fly slipped off his leather vest and used it as a glove so he could reach into the fire and turn the eggs. Raz didn’t miss the way Londa’s eyes wandered over Red Fly’s bare chest, and she wondered if there was more to their rivalry than she had first thought. 

As he was turning the last egg, a stray ember wandered off the fire and landed on Red Fly’s forearm. He yelped, pulling back the arm and nearly dropping Miklaz’s silver egg. “Careful,” Londa said, “You don’t want to be One-Arm, too.”

Red Fly grumbled, irritated. “One-leg isn’t even that clever a nickname.”

“I could call you Peg, if you wanted. Or Woodfoot. No-Cock?”

Raz snorted at that last one. Red Fly slowly turned his head to look at her, his face a mask of utter betrayal. “Sorry, Red” She said. “It’s…I mean, its something for all unsullied, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I am not Unsullied,” Red Fly reminded her. “I didn’t complete my training.”

“So you didn’t get the opportunity to slaughter a slave babe,” Londa waved off his complaint, “You still have the lack of fear and the great fighting experience. You’re Unsullied enough.”

From his extensive training, Red Fly was never one to look away ashamed, or fidget with his fingers. All he did was stiffen where he sat, his muscles tightened. He looked straight in Londa’s eye as he explained, “I had the opportunity.”

Londa looked in confusion, not sure what he meant. Raz figured it out, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “What happened?” She asked, hoping she wasn’t intruding, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious.

Red Fly gave her his attention instead, speaking like he was giving a military report. “I went to the slavers market. I found a young mother easily enough. Under my commander’s eye, I gave a coin to the mother’s master. I took the baby from her arms. She tried to fight me, but was half-starved and weak. I threw her to the ground, holding the babe in one hand.” He paused, the only indication of a negative emotion associated with the memory. “I don’t remember if the baby was a boy or girl, but I remember it’s face as it cried, reaching for it’s mother. It was all red and scrunched up and ugly…but still…I could not do it.”

Londa was speechless. None of them had ever seen her speechless. Raz wasn’t sure it was possible, but if there was ever a reason, Red Fly’s speech would be it. She herself had no words. 

“I was a good fighter,” Red Fly continued, as though he wasn’t aware the effect his story had, “So my commander offered me a rare second chance. He killed the babe in front of me, and told me I would try again the next day. If I could still not do it, it would be my throat that would be slit.”

Londa closed her eyes in disbelief, whispering something in a tongue Raz didn’t recognize. It sounded like a prayer. “Then…how,” Raz said, her throat dry. She swallowed to continue, “How are you still here, then?”

Red Fly sighed. “The next day, all the Unsullied, including the untrained boys, were bought by Daenerys Targaryen. She did not have the same rules as the Masters, so when Barristan Selmy went through the troops and was told why I was still in training, he let me join the proper ranks without taking my test. That is, until I lost my leg in Meereen.”

The fire crackled, somehow much louder than before. They all listened to the desert night, the air cooling quickly. “That was lucky.” Raz said, “Mhysa coming, I mean. Not the part about your leg.”

“Would you have done it?” Londa asked, “The next day, would you have…done that?”

Red Fly paused for a long night, thinking. Just as it seemed as he might never answer the question, he said low, “I don’t know.”

The air itself seemed heavy. “Thank you,” Raz said, trying to sound earnest. “You lost your leg saving the city of Meereen. Saving us,” She motioned to the three of them. “You were set free, you didn’t have to do that. So. Thank you.”

“Serving under the Queen is an honor,” Red Fly said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I would gladly have given my life fighting for her.”

“Oh, just accept the compliment, will you?” Londa said, her voice teasing but with a note of sincerity she usually buried too deep to hear. 

“It was not a compliment. It was a ‘thank you.’” Red Fly said, “And Razmarra gave it to me, not you.”

“It was on behalf of all of us,” Londa explained, rolling her eyes like she was explaining something to a child, “Don’t you worry, Red, we’ll get you a nice proper leg once these babies get us some money,” She gestured at the dragons eggs. “I know a nice woodworker, makes quality stuff. He’ll fit you out, get you running faster than you did before.” Red smirked, pleased at the thought, and definitely didn’t miss Londa using his nickname of Red instead of her usual moniker ‘one-leg.’ “Maybe he can fit you out with a wooden cock too. Attach it right at your hips.”

Raz couldn’t help snorting again, while Miklaz chuckled and even Red Fly didn’t seem as offended, but more amused. There was a shift in the atmosphere Raz couldn’t put her finger on, but it felt good. “Perhaps get one for yourself instead,” Red Fly suggested, “Have the whores work for you for a change.”

Londa fell back, pillowing her head with her hands as she lay flat, looking up at the stars. “No, I don’t think so.” She said. “Gold, perhaps. Silk dresses. Fancy jewels.” Raz smiled, imagining Londa all dressed up as a proper lady. It suited her well. “But sex? I think I’ve had enough for my lifetime. I certainly wouldn’t want to spend money on it.”

Raz nodded, “I suppose catering to dirty old men would put anyone off of the idea.”

“To be honest…I never liked the idea. Not even when I was younger.” She switched to using the bag they had used to transport the eggs as a pillow, picking the dirt off her fingernails, “I always told my mother I wouldn’t get married. Not even to girls. My mother liked girls and boys, as many as she could get. On my island, being a whore is just another job. The Island of love…Anyway, she told me I would change my mind, but I never did.” She took a deep sigh, “And then the slavers came to our island, killed my mother and took me. Now it’s not so much that my enslavement has turned me off, it’s simply…made me horrified.”

Londa was less experienced than Red Fly at hiding her emotions. She tried to pass of her shaking arms as shivering, holding her arms tight to herself, but Raz could tell she was trembling. She reached out, wanting to hug her, but used restraint. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought it might do more harm than good. 

“You’d think I’d get used to it.” Londa kept talking, as though she was speaking to the night sky rather than her friends. “Or at least not mind it as much after a time. You’d think all the faces would blend together, each experience, but I remember them all. Even now if I came across any of them on the street, I’d know who they were, how long it had been since they’d come to me, whether they’d been gentle or…” She shivered violently. “It’s cold,” She lied, lamely.

“Do you want my jacket?” Red Fly offered, and it was actually kind of adorable. 

Londa shook her head. “Actually…if you could put it on yourself, that would be nice.”

“It…I bother you?” he asked, slipping the vest back on.

Londa chewed her bottom lip. “Everything bothers me these days.” In the glow of the firelight, Raz saw a tear fall loose from her eye, freely dripping down her face and into the sand. 

Red Fly, Raz, and Miklaz turned to each other, wanting to help but having no idea what would be helpful in this situation. None of them had seen Londa cry and weren’t sure what to do. Red Fly stood up from his place at the fire and went to sit next to her, “Can I…” he didn’t even know what he would ask. He simply opened his arms to Londa on the ground.

Londa did not sit up, but instead grabbed a tight hold of Red’s hand. “Just…just stay there.” Red Fly nodded. He covered her hand with his free one, rubbing comforting circles on her wrist.

Taking his lead, Raz sat on Londa’s other side, offering her hand. Londa took it, just as Miklaz was settling in on the other side of Raz. She used both of their hands as leverage to sit up, not releasing Raz’s hand even when she used it to wipe away her own tears. “Your turn, Brown Mule,” Londa said, “What’s your sob story?”

Raz blinked in the face of the question, trying to make sure Londa had said what she thought she’d said. “I didn’t realize that was what we’re doing.” 

“Well, it may not have been planned, but its certainly what ole’ Woodfoot here and I ended up doing, and Miklaz doesn’t speak to anyone but you, so…you’re up.”

Raz took a deep breath. “My story’s no different than most people’s in Meereen. They had me cleaning out chicken coops, and when the Masters realized I was good at that, they had me care for other animals. Eventually I worked my way up to the stables, even though it was normally only for boys.”

“Booo, boooriiiing,” Londa jeered. “C’mon, get to the good stuff. Every slave has a horror.”

“She does not have to share if she doesn’t want,” Red Fly chastised gently, like he wasn’t still holding her hand to support her. 

“It’s fine,” Raz called off Red’s protective nature. “I was lucky. Luckier than most slaves. My Master kept me, let me stay my whole life. I didn’t have to move around, didn’t have to be separated from my mother and father until the day they died, first my mother, then my father. My mother she…She died giving birth to my younger sister.” Raz took a deep breath, thinking back on that day. Remembered holding her squalling sibling in her arms, only a child of 6 herself, just as clearly as Red told them about the babe he’d held in the market. Remembered her father crying when he had heard what had happened, but still being forced to work. “And my sister…she was sickly from it. Every day when the Master came down he asked if she was dead yet, but my sister held onto life. Why, I’ll never know. What did a babe so small have to live for?”

Londa squeezed Raz’s hand, trying to comfort her. By this point, no doubt the others guessed the ending of the story. They might not have the details, but considering they had never heard of this sister before now, there was only one way for her fate to end.

“When she was 5,” Raz forced herself to continue, “My Master put her to work in the chicken coops, as he had done with me. She was still small and sickly and she tried…she worked so hard…but she couldn’t get the work done that I had. That my mother had. So, my Master sold her to a Braavosi woman. It was my turn to cry like my father had, as they had to take her out of my arms because I wouldn’t let go.” She swallowed. “A while later, I was on assignment, walking a horse out of town, holding onto the reigns for the Master’s son who couldn’t control the beast yet. And I saw her…” Her voice hitched, “I saw her crucified on one of the signs.”

The sounds of the night filled their ears once again as she stopped speaking. Londa, lacking words once again, let go of Raz’s arm so she could wrap her arm around Raz’s shoulders instead. Londa and Red gave her no words, because there were no words to say. 

What surprised Raz was when she felt a thump on her other side as Miklaz attached himself to her, burying his head in her chest and shaking. “Miklaz, are you alright?” Raz asked concerned. Miklaz hesitated, but shook his head. “Was it my story? I’m sorry.” He only shook more, and she felt a wet spot grow on her shift. “It’s okay. In the end, I mean. I got my revenge. When Mhysa took the city I drove a pitchfork through my Master’s neck.” He squeezed around her waist and she patted him on the back. “The Masters are horrible, horrible people. But Mhysa set us free. And now, we get to make sure they stay free forever and ever.”

In unison, the four of them turned to the fire, watching the eggs surrounded by flames. It had fanned out with the wind, so now even if they wanted to, there was no way to reach the eggs. They analyzed each one, looking for a crack, a sign, something to show the hatching of a small dragon. 

 

When the four of them woke in the morning, the fire was out, and the eggs sat unchanged by the flames.


	4. Enemy Among Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four try to figure out how to hatch the eggs, but find out a secret about Miklaz

“Mine was one of the first chains the Mother broke,” Londa interpreted for Raz and Red Fly to understand. 

Raz was bored out of her skull, listening to the old Dothraki woman, Halahhi, drone on in the Dothraki tongue, pausing only long enough for Londa to translate what she’d said. She’d learned that Halahhi was technically only half Dothraki, the bastard daughter of a warrior who’d raped a sheep herder. She’d learned about all the ways the villagers usually used to get rid of the Dothraki so they could keep the peace, but couldn’t any longer, as Khal Drogo’s Khalasar descended on them.

“One of Drogo’s blood riders held me in his clutches, me, standing by a group of other women, most younger than me, except for the village healer.” Londa translated as quickly as she could as Halahhi was already starting another part of the story. 

Raz, forever known for her patience, was about ready to tear her own hair out. “The Dragons, does she remember seeing Mhysa’s DRAGONS born.”

Londa interrupted Halahhi, translating Raz’s question. Halahhi’s face twisted into a frown, and began yelling in Dothraki, saying things that made Londa flinch. “She says she’s getting to that part,” 

Raz tried very hard to keep her sigh internal, but she was sure by the way Halahhi glared at her a little of her irritation showed through. 

Most of the people around for the birth of Mhysa’s dragons were either dead or across the Narrow Sea with Mhysa in Westeros, but Londa remembered the old Dothraki woman who stayed in their shelter, too sickly to follow Mhysa with the rest of the Khalasar. 

Londa had hoped she would be willing to talk to them, and they could learn something about Dragons and how to hatch them. And willing, she was. It was to get her to stop talking that was the issue. 

Irritating Raz further was the fact Miklaz had disappeared that morning. There was nothing yet to be concerned about, they all knew these streets well, but Raz would have preferred to know where he was going. He was never like this, most of the time he stuck to Raz’s side until she sent him away. What could possibly be so important he’d leave now of all times?

Of course she was more worried than irritated, but she wouldn’t admit that.

“I will forget the names of my family before I forget that morning: The funeral pyre smoldering, the ashes blowing in the wind…and the Khaleesi standing as bare as the day she was born, a dragon in each arm and that one she rides now, the large black one, sitting on her shoulder. And they sang, they sang the most wonderful melodies…”

“Is she saying she does not remember how the Queen got the dragons to hatch?” Red Fly asked, just as fed up as Raz was.

“I’m not translating that,” Londa said, listening as Halahhi kept talking, ignoring or oblivious to Red Fly’s comments. “She’s talking about how she regrets not following the queen across the poison water, but she’s too sick, and can’t go on.”

Raz and Red Fly sat back, ready to fight for the information as long as they didn’t have to listen to another story.

“Now she’s talking about some healing woman…a magic user from her village…who the queen saved with her and other women from the Dothraki rapers…” Londa continued translating. “The healing woman betrayed her…and for her betrayal met…” Londa leaned in, repeating something in Dothraki, which Halahhi confirmed, “Met the wrath of the Dragon.”

Raz and Red Fly sat up. “Wrath of the Dragon?” Raz asked, “What does that mean?”

Londa’s attention was split, listening with rapt attention to the story Halahhi told and remembering as an after thought to translate the words for the others. “She took the life of the Khaleesi’s son, the stallion who would mount the world…granted the great Khal Drogo a half life…she angered the Khaleesi so…” Londa swallowed listening intently, “She killed Drogo, her own husband…She had the remaining blood riders build a pyre, a huge pyre, in a strange shape. She tied the healing woman to it, listened as she screamed into the night. She set her eggs alongside her husband. Then, Khaleesi walked into the fire herself, but she did not scream. She did not burn, not even flinch as the flames licked her skin. We all sat, waiting, watching, until the flames were so high we could not see.”

Londa finally turned to Raz and Red Fly, translating the last of the story, “And in the morning, the dragons sang.”

Raz and Red Fly could not speak, despite their mouths hanging open. Halahhi nodded, smiling and satisfied that she had properly impressed them. 

Red Fly was the first to compose himself, swallowing. “Razmarra…” He said, “Do you know the words of house Targaryen?”

Raz didn’t know much of anything about the houses of Westeros, but after the Queen’s Reign, she knew these words by heart. “Fire and Blood.”

“What if they are not simply words of warning?” Red Fly asked, “What if…what if they’re a recipe?”

Raz nodded, having a similar thought. “We’re going to have to kill someone.” She turned to Halahhi. “You said the pyre was in a strange shape. What shape?”

Londa translated her question while Red Fly muttered, “You think its magic?”

“I wouldn’t discount it. I want it to be as close as possible.”

Halahhi frowned as she responded to Londa. She spoke at length, but all Londa translated was, “She doesn’t know.”

Raz scowled, disappointed more than anything. 

“Maybe the symbol is unnecessary,” Red Fly said. “Perhaps just the blood is enough. 

“If we have to kill someone, I’d rather be sure it’s going to work.” Raz said sitting back, thinking. Was there anyone else who might have been there when the dragons were born? Or perhaps someone who could tell them about the dragons of old? 

“Raz,” Londa said, nodding at the door of the shelter. Raz turned, just in time to see Miklaz duck inside, trying and failing to incur the notice of the shelter caretaker, a deceptively kind-looking woman referred to as Lady Mercy. As in, if she kicked you out of the shelter, as she often did, it would be a mercy. The only downside is you’d have little to no where else to go but the streets. 

“Boy!” Lady Mercy bellowed, like ice that froze Miklaz in place, “Where do you think you are going?” 

Miklaz swallowed, muttering quietly under his breath. “What was that?” She demanded of him, making him flinch and curl in.

Raz thought quickly. “Red Fly, guard the eggs. Londa, you’re with me, play along.”   
They both nodded, as Raz grabbed Londa’s arm and dragged her over to Miklaz. Lady Mercy was still yelling at her, “Speak, or the only bed you’ll have tonight is in the Bay!”

“There you are!” Raz said, running over to Miklaz and grabbing his fist. “Oh, you got it, thank Mhysa.” She mimed grabbing something out of his hand and stuffing the invisible substance into Londa’s mouth. “Just in time. Eat up sweetie, swallow it all.”

Londa did as was told and chewed nothing, swallowing nothing, and looking relieved to do so. 

Lady Mercy looked between the three of them. “What is this?” 

Raz tried to look innocent. “I sent my brother out to get Khosko leaves for my friend. She was getting sick, and I knew Khosko leaves could cure the illness.”

Lady Mercy’s frown deepened, “If she was sick, she should have come to me!” 

‘So she could get thrown out,’ Raz thought to herself. “I didn’t want to risk the Lady’s sickness, or cause her more trouble than necessary. Now please, if I could have him.”

Lady Mercy sneered. “Next time, do not go out past curfew. No excuses!”

Raz nodded quickly, taking Miklaz’s hand and pulling him and Londa back to their corner. “Where in Mhysa’s name have you been?” Raz demanded of Miklaz the moment they were out of hearing range of everyone else. “Running off without telling me? Staying out past curfew?”

“We stay out past curfew all the time,” Londa reminded her. 

“Not the point!” Raz said. Miklaz shuddered under Raz’s gaze as they made it back to their corner. “No, you don’t get to give me the silent treatment this time. What were you doing?”

Miklaz bent his head, ashamed, and took out a book he hid in his pants. It was old and worn with torn pages. Raz grabbed it out of his hands, opening it up. “A book? Seriously?” She opened it, skipping through all the diagrams and symbols she couldn’t understand. “What’s the point of this, none of us can read?”

“Maybe we can find someone? A former tutor or something?” Londa suggested. 

Miklaz shook his head and pointed at himself. “You…” Raz muttered, trying to understand his charades. “You can read?” 

Miklaz nodded, opening up the book to a specific page. On the spread was a diagram of a dragon. “I…” Miklaz muttered just loud enough for them to hear. “I thought it could come in handy.”

Londa grabbed the book and started flipping through. “Maybe it can tell us what symbol the pyre should be in.”

Red Fly sat up on the bed, putting to words the question which was repeating over and over in Raz’ mind. “Where did a gutter rat learn to read?”

Miklaz shuffled his feet, sitting on one of the mats. He muttered under his breath as he always did. “Speak up!” Raz demanded. 

“Raz…” Londa warned.

“Now isn’t the time for this. Miklaz. Answer. The Question.”

“I’m not a gutter rat…” Miklaz muttered. 

Raz took a deep breath in through her nose, her chest inflating to make herself larger. Miklaz shrunk before her, and maybe there was a part of her that felt bad. She was always the one to stand up for those smaller than herself, not make them smaller. Still, an inkling sat at the back of her mind. An idea, a…an answer to her own questions. An answer she did not like. “Then where did you learn to read?”

Miklaz gulped, refusing to meet Raz’ eyes. He shuffled back and forth. She had worked so hard to get him to open up to her. “My…” he muttered, “My tutor taught me.”

“Your tutor?” Red Fly asked, catching up to Raz’ line of thinking. “You had a tutor?”

“Of course he did.” Raz said, her voice low. “All the children of the Masters had one.”

Miklaz actually shut his eyes, tensing up. Red Fly and Londa exchanged a look of surprise. “But…how…” Londa said, always the first to speak up, “We found you…we found you on the streets. How can you be the son of a…a…”

“My father…” Miklaz muttered, “My…my father was crucified by the Queen…” he said, “and my…my uncle wanted to take over for our family, instead of it going to me. So…so my mother sent me away before he could kill me. So I could hide among the slaves.”

By the time he’d finished speaking he was so quiet they could only hear a hint of his words. Raz shook where she stood, glaring down at Miklaz. She wanted to scream. She wanted to yell. She wanted to hit him, this boy who she had cared for like a little brother. “Get out.” She snapped, her voice low. 

“Raz,” Londa stepped forward in between her and the boy, “I’m upset too, but you can’t—“

“I can and I will.” Raz snarled. “He lied—“

“I didn’t!” Miklaz protested, “I just…you never asked…”

“Shut. Up.” She commanded. “You tricked us. After we took you in, protected you!”

“I’m sorry…”

“I told you to shut up!” Raz voice raised, almost to a yell. Red Fly cleared his throat, directing her attention at several others in the room, glancing over at them. She took a breath trying to calm herself. “Don’t ever speak to me again.” 

Raz felt a livewire of energy under her skin, an energy buildup that would explode if she didn’t do something about it. Considering her options were to punch someone or walk away, she chose the latter, ignoring Londa’s pleas of “Raz wait, if Lady Mercy catches you—“

Raz didn’t care if she were caught, she needed air free of the stink of the shelter. Unfortunately, the night air of Meereen was no colder nor fresher. Still, once she was outside she took a deep breath as though to calm down. It didn’t work. She took a second. Still nothing. 

“He is a child,” She was too wound up already to be surprised that Red Fly had followed her. 

“A master’s child.” She said, pointing back into the shelter. “A master who was crucified by Mhysa. You know the kinds of people she put up there? Slave killers. Child murderers.”

“He did not kill any slaves.”

“You don’t know that,” She said, “You think the kids are any less heartless bastards than their parents? I saw those children. One order, one temper tantrum, and a slave could be sent away or worse. And even if he hadn’t, he would have. Sooner or later, if Mhysa hadn’t come—“

“She did come,” Red Fly said. “And thinking about what might have been is pointless. I might have murdered an innocent child. Do you hate me?”

“It’s not your fault,” Raz said, pacing in the dirt. “You were…you were manipulated, brainwashed…shaped to do terrible things.”

“In a strange way, so was he.”

“Its not the same!” She yelled into the night. Her voice did not echo far, but it felt good to have even just that small a release. She wanted to run out to the sea and do it again, yell until her lungs fell out her throat.

“No,” Red Fly muttered, in the cautious voice Raz herself used when she didn’t want to set someone off, “It’s not. But it is similar.”

She shook her head, still furious. “I just…I keep thinking…” She paced further. Red Fly was never one to pry, never one to prompt for anyone to keep speaking. He simply waited. “I keep thinking…about the stories we told…” Red Fly raised an eyebrow. “About the baby you didn’t kill. Londa’s mother, my sister…don’t you see, its all the same story?” Red shook his head. “You bought the baby to kill. Londa was older, but she WAS that baby, in a way. Ripped from her mother’s arms. I was the mother, or, well, older sister, too weak to stop my baby from being taken from me…and Miklaz…Miklaz’s the master. The one who sold babies, and bought more.”

“A 12 year old child didn’t buy your sister.”

“I know,” She said, “But someday he would’ve bought SOMEONE’S sister. They’re all the same, they all…they all kill us, treat us less than human, wish we were under their thumbs again.” 

“Miklaz isn’t like all of them.”

“How do you know?” She demanded. “What do we really know about him?”

Red Fly considered her question seriously. “There is one way to find out.” 

She stared at him, knowing the answer, but still not sure if she was willing to do as asked. She had two options, listen to the boy and see if there was any way she could trust him again…or send him out, let him run through the streets find another shelter. There were so many problems with both options she didn’t know where to start…and even despite all of those, she didn’t know which one she felt like she want. Her heart was on an impasse.

She simply…stopped. She looked out over the pyramids of Meereen, and stopped. Stopped functioning, stopped being the good leader, the older sister, the former slave, anything that she once was. She’d return in an hour, return at some point once she decided what to do. 

Red Fly waited with her, a silent but steady companion as she stared out at the city, stuck.


	5. Victim of Circumstance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raz confronts her feelings about the masters while they come up with a plan to hatch the eggs.

Because it was the only thing to do, Red Fly eventually guided her back to the shelter, past the watchful gaze of Lady Mercy, and back to their corner, where Miklaz was asleep in Londa’s lap. It seemed he’d been crying. 

Londa stroked his hair, clearly hearing the others approach, but not looking up. “His name is Miklaz zo Dhezza.” 

Raz sat on her mat, staring at the small boy. He should look different, somehow, but it was so natural to just forget what she had learned that day. She didn’t want it to be easy to forget, she wanted to feel a twist in her gut, a level of disgust when she saw him, a shot of betrayal and anger flooding through her, but all she saw was the small boy she had come to care for. Maybe that instinct was too strong to eliminate all at once. Maybe she could learn to hate him.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Red Fly sat beside her. “I have not heard of the Dhezza family.”

“Not many have,” Londa said, continuing to stroke Miklaz’ hair, “I knew his father, though. His uncle too, both customers for my master, though never mine. A small family, decently wealthy. They had a few slaves, not many. More than anything they’re merchants. Silver merchants.” She nodded over to the pile of blankets they knew was hiding the eggs. Raz looked down at the smallest lump, the silver egg. “If that doesn’t sound like destiny, I don’t know what does.”

Raz exhaled through her nose, trying to think. Her brain felt foggy, but she was too tired to be mad anymore. 

Londa also nodded down at the book Miklaz had bought. It lay open beside her. “Look at that symbol drawn on there,” She looked down. It seemed to be a simple circle with a line through it. “Miklaz says the maester who wrote that book called it ‘the cycle of life and death,’ but in old Valyria, it was once called ‘the dragon’s womb.’ Now, he didn’t know why, but—“

“It’s a funeral pyre…” Red Fly said, looking at it. “Only death can pay for life.”

Raz didn’t respond. The words simply did not come. “If this is what the Queen used to bring forth her eggs, then we have everything we need.” Londa said, “Just need to kill some poor fool for it.”

They all felt like someone needed to protest the idea of needing to murder someone, but none had any real qualms about it. 

Raz looked down at Miklaz. “I have an idea for the fool.”

 

“You know for a minute,” Londa whispered, “I thought you meant we would kill Miklaz.”

Raz exhaled through her nose in response, not taking her eyes off the house. It was not a pyramid, not even one of the lesser pyramids, just a stone building that had once been Miklaz’ home. 

They had been watching the home for days in shifts, the money from shoveling under the pyramids enough to last a few days. Miklaz’ uncle, Zakal zo Dhezza, was going over trade agreements at his desk.

His family wasn’t rich enough to keep hold of the slaves they had once they were all released, and so Zakal left all the chores to his wife and two daughters, who were still working. 

There was no sign of Miklaz’ mother, and they’d long come to the conclusion she was dead. Zakal was perhaps not the cruelest master Raz had ever seen. He had hit his wife a few times, but beyond that, seemed a perfectly ordinary master, caring about his business above all else and having no love nor hatred for those around him. She couldn’t tell much about him, or his wife and the girls here from a distance, though.

But, it was enough. They didn’t need the cruelest man in the city, they didn’t need someone cruel at all, but they had all agreed that if they must kill someone, it needed to be someone who would deserve it. Besides, by law, the house and all the property belonged to Miklaz. If they took it back for him, it would all be theirs by legal rights. 

It made it easier that Zakal was not a good man…and it wasn’t like Raz hadn’t killed before…but something was off about all of this. 

It didn’t help that she and Miklaz still…weren’t getting along. By the gods, Raz was still kinda pissed at Red Fly and Londa for not being as angry at him as she was. They had come to accept it, though, Londa stepping in as Miklaz’s caretaker and the one whom Miklaz would talk to. Red Fly had taken to observing Raz to make sure she didn’t explode. 

There was a load off of Raz’ shoulders as her friends decided to actually act like the adults for once, but all it really did was allow her to close herself off, only really interacting when they needed to do something to accomplish their goal. 

“He’s not well guarded,” Raz whispered to Londa. “I could probably take him. But the trick is keeping it quiet, both from the neighbors and his family.”

“What are we going to DO about his family?” Londa asked. “I doubt they’re just not going to notice when we move into their house.”

“Notice, yes.” She said, “What we do depends on what they do once they notice. But by then it’ll be too late for them to stop us anyway.”

“I don’t want to kill them,” Londa whispered back.

“You won’t be killing anyone.” Raz said.

“You know what I mean,” Londa watched the two daughters, younger than Raz and Londa, but older than Miklaz, scrubbing at the floor. “They may as well be slaves now, except they’re unlucky enough to be related to their master, and there’s no law against that. They don’t deserve this.”

Raz responded once again by simply exhaling through her nose, leaving her answer unsaid. 

Londa’s attention broke from the women in the windows as she leaned in close to Raz. “I’m worried about you. You seem…lost.”

“I’m not lost.” Razmarra said. “I’m doing what I’ve always done: accomplish the next step put in front of me.”

Londa snorted softly, “A mule to the last…” She swallowed, her tone turning somber yet again. “You’re in limbo. I can see it. Hell, Red can see it, and he’s denser than you are. You need to decide whether you’re going to hate Miklaz or not.”

“We need him,” Raz said, “he’s the only one who can read. He’s our legal tie once Zakal is dead. And besides, what about that destiny crap?”

“Fuck destiny,” Londa said, “We both know if you really didn’t trust him, he’d be drowned in the bay by now.”

Raz scowled, watching the wife scrub. She was wrapped completely in scraps of fabric, surely a foreign thing to a woman who was used to luxury. “I didn’t realize I seemed so murderous to you.”

“Not murderous. Just…practical,” Londa continued, “If you don’t trust him, you can’t afford to leave him around to tell someone about the eggs.”

“Keep your voice down,” Raz said, breaking her gaze with the house to look up and down the street until she was sure no one was there.

“Just…make up your mind.” Londa leaned over, lowering her voice as asked. “If you trust him, make up. If you don’t, kill him.”

“He’s 12 years old.”

“That’s what I said,” Londa lay back on a tree. “But you didn’t seem to care about that.”

Raz took a deep breath, thinking. “I don’t know if I trust anyone anymore.”

“That hurts, Raz.” Londa said, “I mean after everything we’ve done for you—“

“Shut up.”

“Don’t you shut me up!” Londa said, her voice rising to potentially-attracting-other-people levels. “I’m saying something important, I—“

“No, I mean, shut up. Look.” Raz pointed to the house, where Zakal stood up, stretching his neck and heading through a door that did not lead anywhere obvious that Raz could tell.

“Where does that room lead?”

 

“It’s a vault,” Miklaz said quietly, tucked into Londa’s side. “It’s where my father held the merchandise. Underground.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?” Red Fly asked. Razmarra was still refusing to speak to him.

“I…didn’t think of it,” Miklaz admitted. They all had to stay very quiet so they could hear him speak, “I was never allowed down there.” 

“That’s our in,” Raz said. The other three turned to her, “It’s concealed, quiet, and can be locked. Once he’s alone, we can get down there, lock him in. No one will hear his screams.”

A morbid thought, that made Londa shiver, but no one argued. “What do we do with the family?” Red Fly asked. 

“They go to the baazar each week to get their food.” Raz said, “We’ll go while they’re gone. When they come back, we’ll calmly explain to them that we’re going to kill the Zakal and take over their home. What we do next is up to them.”

Raz could tell looking at their faces none of the three were comfortable with the idea. She wasn’t either. But it was efficient, and that was enough for her. “We’ll have to move quick,” Red Fly said, “We can’t risk alerting the neighbors.”

Raz nodded, “He doesn’t have much in the way of security. The tricky thing will be to take him down while keeping him alive. I’ll take point, Red, you’ll be my back up, you two will secure the house, pull the blinds, and make sure no one sees.” Miklaz and Londa nodded. “They should go in a few days. Be ready.”


	6. The Past Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group invades the home of Zakal zo Dhezza, but find a surprise that nearly destroys the operation.

Everything went without a hitch. 

Nearly.

It was easy enough to quietly slip to the door and break in.

It was easy enough to block out the downstairs windows. 

It was easy enough to challenge Zakal and punch him in the face when he came downstairs demanding to know who they were and what they were doing here. It was easy enough for Red Fly to gag Zakal as Raz held him down, then moved to bind his arms and legs. It was easy enough to watch him squirm in the ground and not feel a thing but the adrenaline running through her veins. 

It was less easy when Zakal’s wife came home early.

“Raz,” Londa called from the front room. Raz jumped in, taking in the scene of Londa, Miklaz, and the wife all staring at each other in stunned silence. 

At the sight of Raz, the woman opened her mouth to scream. Londa, at a head shorter than the wife, leaped forward wrapping her hand over her mouth to muffle the noise. Raz jumped up and took point, holding the wife’s hands behind her back. “Shut up! Shut up if you want to live!” Raz demanded. “You—“ 

Raz paused as she caught her first close up look at the wife. A sliver of blonde hair peaked out of the wrap she had put it in, unlike the hair of nearly anyone in Meereen. No, this hair color was of somewhere like Westeros….or Braavos. 

Raz looked her in the eyes, confirming what her heart was telling her. “It was you.”

The woman was in near tears, trying to get away. Red Fly stumbled in, lugging his wooden leg as fast as he could to behind her. “What do you mean?” Londa asked Raz, “You know her?”

“It was you. The Braavosi woman.” Londa’s eyes widened in horror, while the woman looked confused, “You were the one who bought my sister.” 

Understanding and terror washed over the woman. She opened her mouth to scream again, as Londa pulled her away. “Raz, don’t—“ but Raz’s entire body was overflowing with energy as she grabbed the woman’s head, intent on twisting it until the neck cracked under her finger tips. 

“RAZ!” Londa pulled the woman back, as far from Raz as she could manage, but the woman slipped out of her grasp and ran for the door, screaming. Red Fly had made it to the door, cutting her off, and she fell back in fear. 

Razmarra stepped closer and closer, a thrill running from her heart and vengeance the only thing on her mind. It worked out, she thought, they’d been so unsure of should they kill her or not, and now the decision was made easy. “Please,” The woman begged, “Please, I’ll do anything, please!”

Raz lifted her foot to stamp on the woman’s neck, which put her just enough off balance that Miklaz could push her back, inserting his small form in between Raz and the Braavosi. “Get out of the way, Miklaz,” were the first words Raz had spoken directly to him in a while.

“No,” Miklaz said, standing his ground, “Razmarra, listen to me—“

“I said,” Raz took a threatening step forward, standing over him, “Get. Out. Of. The. Way.”

“And I said no!” Miklaz said back, sounding more determined than Raz had ever seen him before. “Look…I don’t know what happened, I was too young, but I can tell you my aunt’s never done a thing in her life that wasn’t on the urging of my uncle. And she didn’t put anyone on any post, don’t you see? Only the great masters do that. Your sister must have been sold again, so—“

“Then SHE was the one to sell her,” Raz said, shooting daggers through her eyes at the woman on the ground. 

“You don’t know that,” Miklaz said, “You don’t know her, I do.”

“I know her fine,” Raz growled, “She’s a master she—“

“Has done horrible things.” Miklaz finished. “I…I’ve done horrible things. I was a master too,” he said, sniffling in front of her. “I don’t…I don’t want forgiveness. But we can’t just kill all the masters. It won’t solve everything. Mhysa knew that. And you do too, somewhere inside of you.”

Raz glowered at him, but he didn’t stand down. “She was responsible, she—“

“Yes.” Miklaz said, “And there’s no…there’s no excuse except for this is just the life she married into. That I was born into. But neither of us can change the past. I’ve changed. She can too, I believe it. You have to trust me.”

Miklaz looked so much bigger than he usually did, which was odd that Raz could only think of how small he was. How easy it would be to take him down, crush him under her thumb. 

And how much that thought horrified her. 

He had the same spirit as her sister. That spirit where he knew he couldn’t win the fight, but he fought anyway. She remembered her sister standing up to the master when she barely came up to his waist. Raz called her many mean words as she tended to her wounds, hoping to enforce the idea that she was never to do a thing like that again, but her sister had just smiled and said, “even if I wasn’t going to win, the fight needed to be fought. So I did.” And it was so simple and so STUPID but dammit if it wasn’t the bravest thing Razmarra had ever heard. 

Slowly, she unclenched her fists and backed up a step. Miklaz nodded, accepting her surrender with grace, and turned to his Aunt. 

Raz turned to return to the other room, hearing the Braavosi woman say softly, “Miklaz? I thought you were dead!” as she left, facing down Zakal. 

“You don’t get a free pass, though.” She whispered to him, putting in all her energy and bitterness and anger in making sure he feared her.

 

It turned out their plan for not attracting neighbor attention failed after Wynera (the Braavosi wife) had screamed and people came to investigate. Luckily, Miklaz managed to convince her allow them to stay, and so sent the nosy neighbors away, with a little help from Red Fly posing as a fully fledged Unsullied. 

Wynera’s daughters, Dendagi and Pessaqi were also surprisingly okay with things. They clearly held no love for their father. Or they were scared for their lives. Raz had not yet decided if this endeared them to her, or made her more suspicious of them. The sisters had taken a liking to Londa. Raz wasn’t sure what they talked about, but she imagined it was a lot of complaining about Raz making Londa do more physical labor.

How she managed to complain more than she already did to Raz’s face, Raz wasn’t sure. “Red is far stronger than me,” Londa said, lugging the bundle of logs and tossing them into the wagon, “Why don’t you bring him along, and I can stay behind and help Dendagi and Pessaqi moving the silver out of the vault?” 

“Red Fly can’t move around as much as you can,” Raz said, lugging her own load and sweeping her eyes over the horizon. There weren’t many trees and sticks out by Meereen, so Raz and Londa had taken a cart out of town to gather wood. “Besides, I need him to keep guarding Zakal,” And the rest of the family. Despite Miklaz and Londa warming to them, Raz still didn’t trust Wynera and her daughters. “And Miklaz is helping Wynera keep the business running. So, you get to help.”

Londa groaned dramatically. “Listen, let me go into town, buy Red a niiiice working wooden leg, and he’ll be walking faster than me in two days time. And then HE can lug all the logs.”

Raz frowned at her, “What is happening with you and Red Fly?” 

Londa tripped over flat ground, looking up at Raz as though she asked if Londa was a harpy. “Sorry? Run that by me again?”

Raz just shrugged, and kept working. “I was just curious. Sometimes you’re fighting, and other times its like you’re the best of friends.”

Londa stared at her. “You’re trying to gossip with me!” Raz’s eyebrows went up. She instantly tried to deny it, but Londa insisted, “I knew it! I knew somewhere in there, there was an actual girl, just buried under piles of dirt.”

Raz rolled her eyes. “Oh forget it.” She shuffled over to unload another load of sticks. 

“No, no, no!” Londa said, grabbing Raz’s arm, “No, its great! You can come talking with Dendagi, Pessaqi and I! Oh, and you can come with us shopping, and—“

“I…think that’s maybe a few more steps into girl-dom than I’m willing to take,” Raz said, trying to re-claim her arm. 

Londa did not cease smiling, nor her surprisingly strong grip on her arm. “Oh, come on, you could at least talk with them. I’m sure it’d be fun, and you could be friends and—“

“I don’t think so,” Raz said, finally pulling free. “I highly doubt the two of them are exactly…fond of me.” Deciding that this was probably enough logs, she closed off the end of the cart, walking around to feed the mule she had borrowed from Miklaz’s family. She gave him a friendly pat. She was rather enjoying having a mule of her very own, even though he was a little more grey than her dream of a brown mule sigil. She still needed to look into making that…

“Oh, nonsense,” Londa’s smile was insistent, following close to her and disproportionately excited about this prospect, “I’m sure if you both sat down and talked, you could learn to hear each other’s point of view. You both could be great friends!”

“I highly doubt they’re going to be ‘great friends with the one who is going to kill their father,” Raz jumped up to the front of the carriage, ready to drive back to the Dhezza house. 

She had expected Londa to jump up after her, so after a moments wait with no movement beside her, she looked down. In the complete opposite of how she’d seemed only moments ago, Londa had deflated, and looked sad, or perhaps nervous, head faced down and away from Raz. “Londa?”

“Maybe…” Londa said softly, “Maybe you could talk about that with them too.”

Raz was lost. She stared down at Londa for several seconds trying to parse out some hidden meaning in her words. “Londa?”

“I’m just saying…” Londa shuffled in the dirt, “Maybe you should hear them out about their father. I’m not saying he’s a good person. But…there are worse in the city. Plenty of other masters who are…who are like, rapers and child molesters or something. We could always look to find one of those to kill.”

“And what if whatever master we find has a daughter too?” Raz said, “And that daughter gossips with you and tells you of men worse than her father. Serial killers and raiders and—“

“Then we won’t pick one with a loving daughter.” Londa said. “There must be thousands of people in this city alone, not to mention Astapor or Yunkai or—“

“We’re not shopping for a victim,” Raz argued, nodding to the seat in the cart for Londa to take. “We have someone already, and it’s too late to choose another. What do you think would happen if we let him go? He’ll run straight to the mercenary king and then HE will take our dragons. Is that what you want?”

Londa exhaled, frustrated, through her nose. She obstinately refused to get up in the cart. “Of course it isn’t. But surely there are other ways, other things we can do.”

“Maybe there are,” Raz said, “But we have a plan. And its risky enough as it is. I know, I know it’d be easier if he was some hated man with no redeeming qualities, but you have to remember: he is not a good person. He’s not like Miklaz, or your new little friends. He doesn’t, and never will care about anyone who was once a slave, and would gladly see us all in irons again. I’m not going to pretend this is all about justice, but its what we’re doing.”

As she spoke, Londa’s eyebrows creased, and she could see the mental tear in her friend. Kindly, she offered her hand, to help her into the cart. Londa reluctantly accepted.


	7. Fool's Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Londa's new found mercy threatens to disrupt the group's plans to hatch their dragons.

Londa was quiet the entire trip back to the house. That was fine with Raz, who often thought silence was good enough. 

To anyone who asked, Raz was a day-laborer, bringing supplies to the Dhezza house. No one asked about Londa, but she could only assume people made their own assumptions about why she would be brought to the house.

They were able to load the cart into the back of the house, with a door closer to the vault. Now that they were back inside, Londa proclaimed exhaustion and retired to the room. All 4 had taken to sleeping in the master room, with Wynera taking Dendagi’s, and Dendagi sleeping with Pezzaqi. It was not meant for 4 occupants, but it was far better than the corner of the shelter they had been staying in before. The bed was large enough that 3 of them could fit on it, as long as one of the 3 was tiny Miklaz. It was good enough, especially as Red Fly and Raz quietly made sure they both slept in shifts. 

With the absence of Londa, Miklaz took to helping Raz unload and arrange the logs downstairs. 

Raz and Miklaz hadn’t spoken much since they took over the house, but that could be because they were both just quiet people. The atmosphere didn’t feel as tense. They just…existed together. 

Miklaz consulted his book to make sure the pyre they built was absolutely right. It was a simple enough shape. “The only thing I’m concerned with is the smoke,” he piped up, seemingly out of nowhere. “This room isn’t properly ventilated. There’s nowhere for the smoke to go.”

Raz looked around, thinking, “I suppose we could carve out a hole in the wall, and dig up to the surface.” She sighed. “It’ll take another day to build, though. At least.”

“Well, we don’t need it to be pretty,” Miklaz said, “Though I suppose we’ll need an explanation to give neighbors as to why there’s smoke.”

Raz wiped sweat off her brow. “I’ll leave that to you upclass folks. I don’t know what would make them go away.” Miklaz nodded, business like. She was hoping to have this all done with tomorrow. The apprehension in the house was making everyone…antsy. “Miklaz…are you…do you want to save your uncle?”

Miklaz looked up at her. “He makes a practical choice,” he said, “With him gone, I’ll be heir to the Dhezza family, and we can use this house and business for our own. We can’t very well raise dragons at Lady Mercy’s.”

“Right, but…putting aside that…do you want to save him?” 

Miklaz considered the symbol before him, staring at it so long Raz was worried he hadn’t heard for some reason. “I…” he said, “I don’t like him. Never did. And he killed my mother, Aunt Wynera confirmed. He would have killed me too.” Raz heard the implicit ‘but’ in his words, and so patiently waited for him to say what he needed to. “I don’t…I don’t know if he deserves this.” He looked down at the pyre. His voice lowered to its typical whisper, “I don’t know if anyone does.”

Raz took a breath, “There are many who deserve death.”

“Killing to gain freedom, or justice,” Miklaz said, “Killing to save your life…killing to save the life of someone else, maybe it is deserved.” He looked up at her, “Killing for personal gain…and by fire no less…It’s punished by the Gods.”

Raz sighed. She had no time or patience for the gods, not the gods of the ghiscari, nor the Red God so heavily worshipped by the freed slaves. But she knew what he meant. “Why don’t you turn back, then?” She asked.

Miklaz took a deep breath, looking at the pyre. “Maybe I’m going to hell anyway,” He said, “And if I do, may I go on dragon back.”

Raz didn’t know what to say to that. The words were dark, too dark for someone so young. He barely understood the world…but here he was anyway. And maybe that’s just the world that they lived in. 

Raz was pulled out of her thoughts at the sounds of yelling and desperate pleas from upstairs. 

With only a momentary look at Miklaz, she bolted to the stairs and ran up and out of the vault.

“Step away, cripple,” a man’s voice said, “Or your lady love stains my floor red!”

Banging open the door, the first thing she saw was Zakal at the base of the stairs, ropes hanging loosely from his wrists, and holding a sobbing Londa to his chest, knife at her throat. 

Across the room, Red Fly stood in front of the main door, spear he’d made himself out of one of the sticks Londa and Raz brought back pointed directly at Zakal’s face. Between the two groups, Dendagi and Pezzaqi stood, crying and pleading for their father to let Londa go.

Zakal watched her come in, his eyes bugging out of their sockets. More importantly, he noticed Miklaz trailing in behind her, “You!” He shouted, “I swear I’ll have your head for this you little brat!”

“Raz,” Londa muttered, “Raz I’m so sorry,” 

“Shut up!” Zakal shouted back, jerking his knife so it nicked her throat. Raz could see little drops of blood on her dark skin. 

Raz lifted her hands in surrender, slowly taking a step toward Zakal, “Zakal…put…the knife…down.”

“Why?” Zakal said, “So you can kill me? Burn my skin off? I don’t think so,” He said, “Not even your little friend here thinks that’s fair,” He indicated Londa, “She and my girls were going to let me go, smuggle me out of the city and far away from you. But why should I? This is my home! YOU’RE the ones who should flee! When the Mercenary King finds you, you’ll all be hanged!”

The daughters whimpered, begging, “Please, please, father, don’t do this,” “We tried to help you don’t do this.” Londa closed her eyes, looking away from Raz in shame at what she had done, and how badly it had backfired. 

“Shut up!” Zakal shouted at the girls. He focused his gaze on Raz, “You don’t deserve mercy, but I’ll give it to you. You take your little dog,” he sneered over at Red Fly, “And find a ship, get out of the city, I don’t care where, and never return. You leave the bitch, and the traitorous pup.”

He squeezed Londa’s waist suggestively. Raz watched in horror as the light in Londa’s eyes went dark, still alive, but no longer present. She’d seen that look in slaves before, but seeing it on Londa, who was so full of life and energy, even when she shouldn’t, was devastating. 

Red Fly must have felt similarly, because he stepped forward with his spear, his military discipline giving way to his youth and anger. “Let her go,” He demanded through clenched teeth. 

Zakal’s eye twitched, not brave enough to take on an unsullied, even one missing a limb, but clearly realizing he had the upper hand. His pointed beard intermixed with Londa’s dark hair. 

Raz thought quickly, faster than she ever had. Leaving was simply not an option, even if she didn’t have the four dragon eggs below. She knew perfectly well Londa would rather they killed her and left rather than left her there alive in the clutches of a master once again. There had to be something else…Something else she could do…

She couldn’t think of anything, all her plans leaving her head. Miklaz looked to her, Red Fly stood beside her, and she could think of nothing to do to save her friend.

She remembered Red Fly’s story again, holding an innocent babe, with the mother helplessly watching. She thought of her own sister, taken from her, and she felt so helpless then as well. She’d been helpless all her life up until she drove a rake through her master’s chin. Since then she had not felt helpless again, until now, and had hoped never to again. Even when she didn’t know what to do, she had options, had control, but as Londa lay limp in Zakal’s arms, she didn’t know…

A glint caught her eye. Slow movement behind Zakal. As soon as she realized what it was, she kept her focus on him, so that he wouldn’t turn and see it to.

Carefully stepping down was Wynera, her noise covered by her daughters pleas. She lifted a glass bottle over her head and smashed it down with all the force she had on her husband. 

He lurched, his hand flying away from Londa’s throat. She was back to herself in an instant, flying forward, and ending up in the girl’s arms. The two of them instantly went to check on her and her throat. 

Zakal whipped around to face his wife, his head bleeding. He raised his knife as she raised her bottle, bringing it down a second time. It was too fast for Raz to properly process, but after that moment, she recalled the sound of breaking glass and a blade sinking into flesh. 

The world froze. Zakal fell to the ground, the bottle smashed into shards, and his head split open. Standing above him, Wynera held onto the stem, her husband’s knife lodged in her stomach. 

Pulled out of her reverie, Raz rushed forward, holding onto Wynera as she dropped the bottle stem, falling to the ground. 

Dendagi and Pezzaqi crawled over to their mother, sobbing. Raz shooed them off with one hand to look down at the wound. Wynera’s breath came hitched, blood leaking out of her mouth. 

Raz pursed her lips, looking over at Zakal lying dead on the floor. She leaned down to Wynera, “You’re going to die,” she said, in no uncertain terms. Wynera’s eyes widened in terror, but she didn’t scream. She nodded, accepting it. “You stole my kill from me,” Raz said. 

Wynera hung onto breathing as well as she could, looking into Raz’ eyes in understanding. With a stuttered breath she nodded again, accepting her fate. 

“What do you mean?” Dendagi demanded of Raz. It might have been the first thing the girl had said directly to Raz, “’She stole the kill’, what do you mean?”

“You mean Father?” Pezzaqi added, “She saved Londa Do! She didn’t steal! She—“

“You only have a minute,” Raz cut Pezzaqi off. 

Wynera nodded a final time, and turned to her daughters. “Oh girls…oh, I love you so much. You’ll be fine, I promise you, you’ll do better without him around.”

“Don’t talk like that!” Pezzaqi demanded, “We’ll…we’ll get you a healer! They’ll make you better!”

“Stay with us, Mother!” Dendagi added, “Please!”

Wynera looked up to Raz, “You’ll keep them safe?” She demanded. Raz nodded, solemnly.

“Mother stop!” Dendagi asked, her eyes red from all she had been crying.

“Please mother stop talking like that!”

“I promise,” Raz said quietly, with all the earnestness she could muster. Her face was stone, but inside, she was a mess of terror at what she was about to do. She had been so ready, but now that the time was here so unexpectedly…She wasn’t sure she could do it. But with everything she was unsure of, she did it anyway. “Londa, Red, Miklaz,” She looked up. Red had come to comfort Londa, wiping away the blood on her neck. Miklaz stood over them all, looking every inch as horrified as how this would go as Raz felt, “Hold the girls back,” She instructed.

That confused Dendagi and Pezzaqi just long enough for Red to get his hands on Dendagi’s shoulders, while Londa and Miklaz teamed up against Pezzaqi. Raz swiftly picked up Wynera from the ground, ignoring her groans of pain, and made her way to the vault. 

The thick door of the vault muffled Dendagi and Pezzaqi’s screams as they figured out what Raz intended to do. Oddly enough, the quiet was almost more jarring than the chaos of the room. Her footsteps echoed on the stone steps, reminding her with each one what she was going to be doing. 

The torches from when Raz and Miklaz had been working on the pyre were still lit, though going down. It was one thing to say you planned on burning someone alive, another to go through the process of it. 

She tried not to think about it, going about her work like it was a job during her days as a slave, except this time, she had become her own master. She stepped over the outer circle and lay Wynera on the middle line. Using rope, she tied her down in case in the pain of it all, she tried to move. 

She was eager to step away from Wynera, picking up the eggs at the corner of the room, and laying them around her body, two beside her head, two at her legs. Wynera looked hesitantly at them. 

Raz swallowed to try and gain moisture back. She knew what was about to happen. This was only practical, she told herself. Wynera would die no matter what they did, now they didn’t need to kill someone else. And besides, it wasn’t even Raz who killed her, it was Zakal, and maybe Londa and the girls for letting him free. It wasn’t her fault.

She picked up one of the torches from the walls. All she had to do was drop it. Drop it on the sticks, and everything she had been working for would come to fruition. It was the last step. All she needed to do. 

“I’m sorry.” Raz almost jumped at the sound of Wynera’s voice. Wynera was looking at her, hand on the knife in her stomach, “For you sister. Londa told me. I remember the girl now. I couldn’t care for her, so sold her to someone I thought could.” She spat a glob of blood. “I didn’t know what they would do. I’m sorry.”

Raz stared at her, her brow creased, wondering why Wynera said that. Perhaps it was to make her last amends, gain forgiveness before she died. Or perhaps, it was to make it easier for Raz with what she was about to do. 

In any case, the torch fell slowly, almost too slowly, out of Raz’ hand and landed on the pile of wood. Instantly, the kindling went up, growing and spreading around the circle. 

Raz turned on her heel and made her way back up the stairs faster than she’d ever moved before. The fire crackled behind her, and she heard the last muffled moan of pain from Wynera as she shut the door to the vault behind her. 

She couldn’t take another step, so simply lay her back on the door and slid down, not sure if she would ever move again. 

“What have you done?” Dendagi demanded.


	8. Just Rewards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The eggs hatch, and Razmarra contemplates what she's done.

They sat for hours. Smoke made its way out of the doorframe, but they couldn’t stop now. 

Night fell, but none of them felt like sleeping, so they sat in the room. The sisters cried together. Londa curled under Red Fly’s arm, shaken from the experience and whispering quietly to him. He listened, calmly, rubbing her back. 

Miklaz was the only one doing anything. He cleaned the floors of Zakal’s blood, wrapping the body in a sheet from the upstairs bed. If they had been thinking, they might have charred his remains with his wife’s. It was too late for that now. 

He also brought everyone food, just some basic breads and cheeses. Everyone ate reluctantly. Everyone except Raz. 

Razmarra hadn’t moved from her spot in front of the vault door, even when the smoke stung her eyes, even through each and every one of Wynera’s screams…even when, more horrifying, her screams stopped. 

Miklaz sat beside her, offering her a bread roll. She didn’t take it. She didn’t look at him. “You’re not a monster,” he told her.

She swallowed, “How do you know?” she whispered. 

“We’ve seen monsters,” Miklaz said, “They walk the streets proudly in Meereen. We’ve seen them conquered too.” He leaned his head on her shoulder. “You and I, and Londa and Red…we’re going to do good things with these dragons. You’ll see.”

Raz swallowed. Not sure how to respond. He lifted her arm a tad, and she lifted it, wrapping it around him and holding him tightly. Her brother, she decided right then and there, her little brother. It wasn’t a matter of seeing past the lies he told, but accepting them as a part of him. Things were different…but still, even as the world changed, it stayed the same. 

After a minute of holding one another, he convinced her to eat the bread. 

 

Red Fly was the one to reluctantly ask if they should check, for surely even with a pyre like that, it must have burned itself out.

Raz nodded, and stood with Miklaz’s help. They opened the all the windows and doors in the house, the compromise for not getting the proper ventilation. 

Raz held the door handle. The girls had retired up to their rooms. She looked to the other three, and they nodded. Hesitating for only a moment, she whipped the vault door open, letting the black smoke billow out in clouds. 

She raised her tunic up over her nose, breathing through it, and trying to wave the smoke past her. It snaked out of the house and into the night sky. 

When it had died down to tolerable levels, Red Fly stepped forward with a torch. With flint and steel, he lit it, and stepped forward, Londa not leaving his side and helping him with the stairs. Raz and Miklaz followed him, making their way down the steps.

The vault was eerie, and warm, so overly warm. They walked in silence. There was the sound of something, perhaps steam hissing out of the branches. 

Raz had the terrifying thought of what if it hadn’t worked? What if all that they had done had been for nothing? She didn’t voice this aloud as they made it into the main room. 

Red Fly raised the torch high over his head.

The pyre was still smoking, but out of the ashes, they could see movement along the center line. On the corners of the line were 4 empty shells, shinier than metal on the inside. The movement, was what concerned them most. They had to squint and stare for a moment, allowing their eyes to adjust to the torchlight. 

The movement was four tiny heads, attached to four tiny bodies, chewing away at Wynera’s burnt flesh. 

Raz was mystified, eyes latching on the small brown one. It was real. It was real and here and in front of her. She stepped forward, watching it eat its fill. Its scales glistened in the torchlight. She kneeled down beside the beast. “Hirashi,” She whispered. It was the name of her sister, long dead, but perhaps reborn in this little dragon. “Hirashi…” The dragon’s head popped up, and looked her square in the eye. It tilted his head, considering her. “Hello,” She said.

The dragon squeaked at her. Before long, the little silver one squeaked too, and it sounded like they were singing. Gold and red joined in as well, and the sound of it brought tears to Raz’s eyes. 

 

“You are NOT naming him that!” Londa demanded of Red Fly as they sat in the living room, feeding their dragons. She had just returned from a shopping trip with the girls (that was mostly a distraction so the others could get Zakal and Wynera’s bodies out of the house, out of the city, and buried far away.

“I thought we were all naming our own,” Red Fly said feeding his dragon who was perched on his arm. So far, despite the odd gentle scrape, the dragons were good at not hurting them. 

Londa rolled her eyes, her own dragon perched on her shoulder. “That’s when I thought you were going to name him something good. Ash Oaf? What sort of name is Ash Oaf?”

“It is Unsullied,” Red said, “He breathes, or will breath fire, so ash. He will be big, so Oaf.”

“It’s terrible.” Londa said, “Viserion, Drogon, Rhaegal, those are names of POWER. Of greatness. But…Ash Oaf. Even Raz’ is better than that.”

“Mhysa named her dragons for her brothers,” Raz said, calmly petting Hishari on her lap, “Why can I not name mine after my sister?” 

Londa sighed. “How do you even know it’s a girl?” She asked, fed up with them. 

Raz shrugged. Actually, it was hard to really tell, they didn’t seem to have…differences, in that way. Then again, some animals it was hard to tell when they were first born, and they’d reveal something later. “Actually,” Miklaz piped up, trying to get his own silver dragon off of his head, “Dragon gender is rather fascinating, according to my book. A lot of the old Westorosi maesters disagreed on how it worked. They’d say it was ‘first one, than another’ possibly based on the needs at the time. So, given the Queen’s dragons were trapped underground for so long, its possible one of them switched in order to give birth and…and…” he realized the others weren’t so much listening as watching him speak. He groaned, and the silver dragon happily made a nest out of his short hair. 

“Hmph,” Londa said, “Then I’ll name mine a girl too.” She smiled, “Lohaa.”

Raz blinked, letting the name roll around her head. “That’s a pretty name.”

Londa smiled, softly. “It means ‘love’ in my language,” she said. “It’s…it’s what my mother called me as a babe.” She stroked Lohaa’s head with one finger. The others smiled at her sympathetically. Shaking her head to pull herself out of her reverie, she looked to Miklaz. “And you? Have you thought of a name yet?”

Miklaz sighed, his dragon’s tail flowing down onto his ear. “Well…I was reading some of the old names, which were mostly in High Valyrian, but some in westerosi, or a combination, but none of them sounded quite right, so—“

“Skip to the end, Miz,” Londa said. Raz smiled. She remembered back when Miklaz hardly spoke. She remembered it because it WAS yesterday. Something about having a dragon made him overexcited. 

“Well…I thought maybe something in Old Ghiscari, would suit better, since I’m descended from them. I was going to go with Kraz. It means ‘strong.’” 

Londa nodded, apparently approving. “Well, at least one of you has sense.” Raz and Red rolled their eyes. 

A knock came at the door, and everyone froze. “Damn, they’re early,” Londa said. 

Raz turned to her in horror. “You brought PEOPLE to our house?” In the back of her mind, she realized this was the first time she’d referred to the house as theirs, really theirs. Maybe it was the deaths of the former owners, maybe it was the birth of their dragons, but the house and all that was in it was theirs. 

“Just a couple,” Londa said, “ONE MINUTE” She called to the door, making her own way to the vault. Lohaa protested when she placed her inside the door, picking up a bag Raz didn’t remember being there. “And they won’t even come inside,” Londa reassured Raz, “Now go on, get the babies out of sight.” They had taken to calling the dragons ‘babes’ or ‘babies’ anytime someone might overhear them. 

Unsure of what she was doing, but trusting her, Red, Raz, and Miklaz all pried their dragons off of themselves and stood in front of the vault door, ignoring their cries for attention, as Londa went to answer the door. 

Two well dressed men stood on the other side, one thin and bald, the other fat with a whole beard full of hair. They didn’t look local, maybe from a neighboring city? They spoke to Londa in a foreign accent Raz didn’t understand. She looked to Miklaz, the most likely to know. “Some language from Quarth I think,” he whispered, “I don’t…I can only pick up a few words,” he said as the men and Londa talked rapidly.

“What words,” Raz asked. 

“’It.’ ‘you.’” He answered. Raz glared down at him, his information wildly unhelpful. Miklaz shrugged, silently saying ‘what do you want me to do?’

“Razmarra dear?” Londa called into the house, “Would you come out here?” Raz shrugged and walked out, suspiciously eyeing the two men. 

“Raz,” Londa said, sweetly, “take this cart to the back, would you?” Raz raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She was used to be the one giving the instructions. This felt…weird. Still, she didn’t want to ruin…whatever was going on here, so she wheeled it to the back door so they could unload it. 

“What’s that thing?” Red Fly asked, as she pulled the cart back. Raz shrugged again and pulled back the tarp. Miklaz was the only one to audibly gasp, but Raz and Red echoed his sentiments. In the cart was the largest pile of gold any of them (well, Red and Raz) had ever seen. In bars, not coins. 

Miklaz swallowed, looking at it. “What do we do with it?

Raz looked back to the front door where Londa was still talking with the business men. “Unload it I guess?” The boys looked to her, astonished, an unheard ‘you guess?’ obvious on their faces. She shrugged. 

They got to work, putting the gold bars in a pile on the floor. Gold was heavier than Raz had imagined. It took several minutes even with all three working in a line, Red Fly on the cart, handing the bars down to Miklaz, who handed them off to Raz, who piled them carefully.

Once the cart was emptied, Raz wheeled it back to the front, where Londa was still laughing and chatting with the businessmen. They took it, and Londa handed them the bag she’d taken from the vault. The three bowed to each other, and the men left, excited. “Londa,” Raz said, hesitantly, “What the fuck was that?”

Londa smiled nervous. “Okay…so you’re going to freak out when I tell you at first, but trust me that I’m very, very careful.”

Her words only made Raz more suspicious as they walked back into the house. Miklaz and Red Fly joined them, curious. “What did you sell them that was worth all of this?”

Londa swallowed, avoiding Raz’ stare, and going to open the vault door to release the dragons. “I sold one of the dragon shells.”

Raz’s eyes went wide, her mouth hanging open. “You—“

“Carefully,” Londa added, “I was very careful.”

“CAREFUL?” Raz demanded, “how is it even possible…who did you…you brought them to our HOUSE! You—“

“Would you just listen to me?” Londa said, “Yes, careful. First off, I didn’t say anything about new dragon eggs. I passed it off as eggs belonging to Queen Daenerys.”

Raz gaped at her, “How?”

Londa smiled, “I’m glad you asked,” She said, picking up her little Lohaa and resuming her spot on the chair. “First, I found Halahhi, the Dothraki woman from the shelter, remember. I told her some old businessmen would pay to hear her stories. So, I took her down to the docks, and I found foreign merchants, specifically ones who only arrived in Meereen after the Queen left. I pretended to simply be Halahhi’s translator, and that SHE was the one selling the shells. She rambled on, as usual, and I told falsely translated the story that she had carried the egg shells with her ever since her time with Drogo’s Khalasar. I showed them a sample of Kraz’s shell, and sold one dragon egg’s worth to four different merchants, so they’d never know there were more than three.”

Londa smiled wide, finishing her tale. The other three blinked in astonishment. “Londa…” Raz said, amazed, “That’s brilliant.”

Londa glowed at the attention. “So…” Miklaz said, looking over their pile of gold, “This was for only ONE of the dragon eggs?” 

Londa nodded, “The other three needed more time to bring their payment together. They should be here within a few days to pick up their own shells.”

Red Fly sat down in shock, “So…that means…”

“It means,” Londa finished for him, “That tomorrow, we’re going shopping!”


	9. Close to Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four enjoy the rewards of having money for the first time.

“We should consider getting the vault reinforced,” Red Fly said as the four of them walked down the street. It was the first time the four of them had all left together in quite some time. “It was adequate enough for the silver, but now that we have more in there, a determined thief might find it easy to get around.”

Raz nodded, “We might want a new vault all together for the gold and silver,” Red hummed in agreement, “It’s plenty big enough now for all we need to hold, but soon the babies will grow too large.”

“Or perhaps we should make the second vault for the babies,” Miklaz added, “Once they start, you know,” He mimicked firebreathing, “We’ll want to make sure whatever room they’re in has a chimney.”

Raz thought, considering. “How will we keep the chimney safe from thieves, though?”

“We could install bars in it,” Red suggested. Raz hummed, thoughtfully, imagining, “I know a few places we could hire some guards, as well, to watch over the house while we’re gone.”

“We’d have to trust them absolutely,” Raz said, “And they shouldn’t be told about the babies until we’re positive of their loyalty.” 

Red nodded, “I know where to find honorable soldiers. They won’t betray us.”

“Oh GODS,” Londa said, “Why are you all so BORING!” She hooked arms with Raz and Red. Both of them respectfully ignored the blushes on the other’s face. “We’re here to go shopping! We have been working hard for FAR too long, and now we deserve to be selfish! Now come on, lets have fun!”

The first stop was easy enough to guess, Londa wanted to buy clothing. “How many dresses do you need, Londa?” Raz asked. 

Londa rolled her eyes, “Who got us our money?” She asked. Raz rolled her eyes. “You should get one too.”

Raz gave the mounds of fabric a side-eye, imagining it touching her skin, “I don’t think so,” Raz said, but Londa was snapping her fingers to get the attention of the merchant, “This really isn’t my thing…”

“You can’t go walking around in those old clothes,” Londa says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “You’re wealthy now, how you look is an important part of how people will treat you.” 

“I’d rather they didn’t treat me differently…” Raz said, but before she could argue, the merchant took out a rope and started measuring her, quickly wrapping it around places Raz had not been touched by another person in a long time. Before she could protest, the merchant woman had already left and went to measure Red Fly as well. 

Londa rolled her eyes, “Just pick something simple, if you want. That goes for you two as well,” She said to Red Fly and Miklaz. 

Miklaz picked a few robes that look like smaller versions of the master’s. He looked hesitantly at Raz when he picked it out, but she smiled. He certainly didn’t look like a gutter rat anymore.

Red Fly and Raz looked for the absolute most basic clothing they could find. Red Fly was able to find a simple tunic and trousers. Even the most basic dresses had Raz feeling like some sort of doll. A doll who’s face did not match the rest of her. 

Red Fly couldn’t hold a snort when she walked out in a slip of green, with a slit of yellow. It had the least ornamentation and excess fabric wrapped around. “Shut up,” Raz said. Red Fly chuckled more.

“Oh!” Londa said, clasping her hands and looking between them. “Well, aren’t you two respectable for once.” She smiled looking them both over. 

Raz awkwardly rubbed her bare arms. She was happy to make Londa happy…but she still felt awkward. Londa sensed her discomfort, and possibly Red Fly’s as well. “Relax, its only for when you’re meeting with fancy rich people in the neighborhood, who you’ll no doubt meet at some point. I got you both something special that you’ll like better. It should be made soon.”

Raz and Red Fly couldn’t help but smile. 

 

The next stop was shortest, but also clearly exclusively for Londa: Jewelry. Now that they weren’t forced to look for themselves, Raz and Red somewhat enjoyed walking down the row, imagining what each one would look like on Londa. They had no sense of what would be fashionable and what wouldn’t, but Miklaz helped show them what fancy ladies liked. Londa ended up buying one piece of jewelry that each of them picked out for her. 

Then, Londa led them to a relatively small shop, that was certainly not heavily populated. Inside was nothing but stacks and stacks of paper, sometimes bound with either loose strings, or more carefully leather-bound into—“Books!” Miklaz cried out, racing through the aisles.

Raz had rarely even seen books. Most of these were old and loosely bound, meant for scholars and religious men. Miklaz loved them all the same.

They went to a weapons shop for Red, got him a better spear he could use. “You could switch it up, get a sword or a rapier, maybe an axe! Heck, look, they have explosives here, powder from the Red Waste said to take down buildings!” Londa said, trying to urge him to something nicer, but he was insistent. His expression remained neutral, but they could see the excitement in his eyes. They also got him measured for a new leg, to be fit and ready in just a few days. 

And for Razmarra…Londa took them all the way out to the edges of the city, sending Miklaz and Red Fly back home. She spoke with a farmer in a language Raz didn’t understand. “What are you buying now?” Raz whispered to her, but Londa shushed her as the farmer turned around the bend with the gold coin Londa had just given him. 

Raz stared suspiciously. It wasn’t much gold coin, so Londa mustn’t have bought something too fancy. “Seriously, what is it?” Raz said. She didn’t do well with surprises.

“Will you just wait for like half a minute?” Londa chastised, “Honestly, and you call me impatient.”

Raz was just about to argue, but then the farmer came back, leading with him the most beautiful mule she’d ever seen. It was sturdy and strong, with a thick coat of brown fur and long pointed ears. “Bred from a dothraki horse,” Londa said, taking the reigns from the farmer and offering them to Raz. Raz didn’t even notice, gaping at the beast before her. “Go on,” Londa said, giving the reigns a little shake.

Hesitant, Raz took the reigns and held out her hand. The mule lipped at her fingers, looking for treats. Londa quickly gave her some so the creature wouldn’t eat her fingers off. 

Finally, for what felt like the first time in…in she didn’t really remember, Raz giggled. The smile on her face was full of ease as she stroked the mule’s nose, resting her head between it’s eyes. Tears welled up, but she batted them away best she could. 

She turned to Londa Do, who was watching her with just the barest hint of a smile. “Thank you,” Raz said, holding out her hand for the girl to take. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I get it,” Londa said, guiding her back home, “Right back at you.”

 

The mule followed them with ease, clearly very well trained. Londa and Raz laughed, trying to think of names for the mule. Londa teasingly rejected every one of Raz’s suggestions, saying it was too plain or too silly, or whatever other reason she had.

When they made it to the house, Miklaz quickly ran outside, the worried look on his face enough to sober them both. “What?” Raz demanded, “What happened?”

“Dendagi and Pessaqi are gone,” Miklaz said, “And so are the dragons.” 

 

Raz paced angrily through the front room, her friends all seated around her, watching carefully. 

“They couldn’t have gotten far,” Londa said, “2 people against 4 baby dragons? They must have been scratched and bitten to hell.” 

“They might have taken them to the docks, to sell for passage on a ship,” Red Fly suggested, “Unless they tried to raise them for their own use.”

“My cousins?” Miklaz said, doubtfully, “They’re not exactly Mhysa. They don’t have ambition, and they don’t want have the willpower to raise dragons themselves. No, they’ll try to sell them.”

“How could they do this?” Londa said, “We FREED them from their horrible father. We would have taken care of them, made them rich beyond their wildest DREAMS. I thought they were our friends.” 

“The masters don’t see freedom like that,” Raz said. She stopped pacing, figuring it out. “They will take the dragons to the mercenary king, and sell them to restore their place as heirs of the Zo Dhezza family.”

“Women can’t inherit land in Meereen,” Londa argued. 

“I’m betting the Mercenary King will bend the rules if four dragons are given to him.” Miklaz said, “And he’ll either ship them off to the Dragon Queen or try to keep them himself. Either way he’ll never have to give up his power.”

Red Fly took an angry breath, “We have to get them back.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Londa shot at him, “To return the dragons to your precious queen? Isn’t the goal of the Unsullied to worship her every foot print?”

“I am not Unsullied!” Red Fly said. With that he struggled to stand. He slouched because of his leg so often, Raz forgot how tall he really was. “I am Red Fly, Soldier of the Battle of Meereen, and Father to Ash Oaf, the Red Flame Dragon,” he raised his head, “I respect Daenerys Targaryen, but she left Meereen behind. Without her, we are at the mercy of the Mercenary King, and whatever Masters take up power. We may no longer be slaves, but we worked as if we were still. This city, and all of Dragons Bay, need rulers who can enforce the Queen’s rules, and rule in her stead.” He looked over his friends, “It should be us.”

Raz blinked at him. She had always seen Red Fly as humble, steady, a soldier. Now he stood like a King. 

Miklaz stood next. “I’m Miklaz Zo Dhezza, father of Kraz,” It seemed ludicrous to think of this boy as father of anything, “I may not have been a slave, but I know what the Masters are capable of. I will right the wrongs of my ancestors, and help to shape this new world on dragon back.”

Londa chuckled as she stood as well, raising her head high like a noble lady. “I am Londa Do, Mother of Lohaa, the most beautiful dragon in the world,” she smiled, smug, but it quickly turned to a snarl. “I was taken from my home as a child and forced into a life I would never want. But I survived. And I’ll survive whatever this is too.”

They all turned to face Razmarra. She took a deep breath. “I am Razmarra,” She said, “Mother to Hishari. And I am not good with speeches and fancy words.” She snarled and clenched her fists, “But I am angry. I am tired of things being taken from me. No more.”

They all nodded. “Then lets get this started.”


	10. Dragons Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group are determined to regain their dragons.

Razmarra drove the cart forward, Londa Do sitting beside her. The cart jerked with each step the mule, still unnamed, took as it carried them forward. The dirt streets were quiet, but it only put Raz on edge all the more, eyes darting back and forth. 

“Are you sure about this?” Raz asked. She knew she’d said she would do anything to get back her dragons, but she hated this. Images of Zakal holding Londa flashed through her mind. She didn’t want to put Londa in that situation again. 

“You’re sweet, you know.” Londa said, smiling at her as she adjusted her gown around her. They were gold silks, glorious to behold, shining like sunlight against her dark skin. “But don’t worry, they won’t hurt me.”

Raz took a breath, still reluctant, but couldn’t think of a better way to get into the pyramids. 

They’d done some scouting. As much as they wanted to simply raise hell and invade, they were counting on Daario Naharis’ greed in hopes he would not simply kill the dragons. Simply barging in would lead to certain death, and then there would be no hope for their dragons. 

They were lucky. The place they checked was one they knew well, the pits below the pyramids. Apparently as they’d been capable of holding two dragons until well into adulthood, Daario was hoping they would be able to hold 4 babies. It wasn’t being advertised, but the pits were suddenly incredibly well guarded, all cleaning and building operations stopped. It was the cause of many rumors among town, but no one could come close to guessing the true reason. 

There was no use in trying to get past the guards at the main entrance, it had all been sealed up, no guards to get through. That left the entrance in the pyramid itself. So that is where they had to go. 

Raz drove her cart to the gate. “No shipments today,” The guard cut her off before she could speak. 

“I know,” She said, “But I have this silver that really needs to be delivered to the Mercenary King. The shipment was delayed by a storm, and I need the delivery payment today.”

“No exceptions,” The guard said, deadpan.

Raz nodded, steeling herself, “I thought you might say that,” She said, “But you see, I really need the money for the shipment today. So I brought payment for any fine gentlemen who would allow us entry.”

The guard narrowed is eyes. “What payment?”

“Me,” Londa said, carefully adjusting the draping fabric around her. 

That got the guards attention, each exchanging glances. “For free?” One asked, hesitant.

“Completely,” she said, tossing one of the fabrics over her shoulder to show off her frame beneath.

“Why?” The oldest and most suspicious said.

“I’m a very good friend,” she said, smiling. 

The two youngers looked to their elder, pleading. He looked between Londa to Raz and down to the cart. “We have to inspect your shipment,” he said. 

Raz saw Londa stiffen for just a moment, and resisted the urge to follow suit. “Fine,” she said, “But make it quick, I have more deliveries to do today, and can’t miss out on a single coin.”

The grumpy one went around back, lifting the cloth off the silver they had loaded inside. He tore threw with his sword, banging everything around. Raz flinched at the noises, but tried to stay firm. She didn’t even protest as she would if she were a real deliverer. Surely actual merchants didn’t appreciate their merchandise being messed with like this. 

She was more than certain the guard had pocketed a few pieces, maybe some chain for a lover, or just a little off the top for himself. She couldn’t really blame him, that was the way the city had become. Everyone took for themselves. 

She didn’t want to antagonize him, though, for fear he might search more thoroughly. They had done enough, or so she hoped, to hide their secret cargo, but this was the test.

Once the guard was satisfied, he made his way back to the front and offered Londa a hand to help her down from the wagon. Londa refused it, jumping down herself, “Thank you, gentlemen,” she said, “I’ll take it from here, Raz.”

Raz gave her a meaningful look, but nodded, and whipped the mule forward into the pyramid. The gate closed behind her, leaving Londa alone with the guards. 

Raz drove straight, until she found a way back where no one was wandering, and could stop the cart. She knelt below it, undoing the latch, and Miklaz came tumbling out with a grunt. “I told you not to sit on the door,” She chided him, offering a hand to help him crawl out.

“It’s hard to tell in there,” he said, “I got knocked around, and I think I hit my head.” He stood and dusted himself off. 

Red Fly more expertly rolled out, crawling to his own freedom. “You should have let me kill them,” He said, gritting his teeth. 

“It would have been to suspicious,” She said, “Londa can separate them, leaving the gate still guarded. No one will notice.” 

Red Fly knew she was right, but had the benefit of not leading the mission so he could object. Raz wished she could as well, but Londa had volunteered. 

They walked through the halls, keeping their heads up, but not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Where is the entrance?” Miklaz whispered back to them.

“Find stairs that will go to the lower levels,” Razmarra whispered back, “We’ll have to go as low as we can.”

Miklaz nodded, leading the party in his silver robes. 

“Boy!” a voice shouted, making him jump, “What are you doing here?” 

The three turned to see another guard. Miklaz set his teeth, “And why should I tell you, peasant?” His voice cracked on the last word, ruining the effect, but at least he was trying. 

“No one is supposed to be down here,” The guard said, “By orders of Daario Naharis.”

So, they were in the right place, at least. Or so Raz hoped, wondering if perhaps it was a harem he’d installed to replace the Queen. Everyone knew he was her lover. But she had a feeling that she was right. 

“I’m here to see my father,” He said, “Egnan zo Aquo, he works for Daario Naharis himself!”

“Well not here,” The guard said, “So get back and—“

With just a hint of a nod from Razmarra, Red Fly struck his spear through the man’s neck. Miklaz yelped as he fell, but covered his mouth. 

The red spattered from the body hardly made a stain on Red Fly’s red unsullied suit. He tossed the man aside. “We should hide him.

Razmarra nodded, looking around. She found a door, that hopefully lead to the stairs, down to the dragons. Maybe he could be a small treat for the dragons before they left. 

She took less than a moment to be horrified at her own mind. She had no qualms killing this man, but feeding him to a dragon felt cruel, or it would have to the small girl who cared for her sister. 

It passed easily, maybe too easily. Caring for her sister only got the sister dead. She wouldn’t allow the same to happen to this Hishari. 

She and Red Fly picked the body up, carrying him to the door. He was heavy, but Red Fly’s mobility had drastically improved. He would need time to get used to it, but time was not something they had.

“Oh good,” Londa said, turning the corner. Red and Raz dropped the body at the sight of her. “I found you.” 

Raz resisted rushing to her, and it seemed Red did the same. “Did they touch you?” Red asked.

Londa smiled. “One did.” She showed them the knife she had tucked to her leg, “But not for long.” She sighed, “His friends think he’s still having fun, but they won’t let him have his turn forever. We should hurry.”

“Guys?” Miklaz said, “The body? We remember the body?” Torn out of an enchantment, Red and Raz picked the body back up. “Grown ups are weird.”

“We are indeed,” Londa said, “Maybe once we’re home, we can discuss how weird we all are.” She gave both Raz and Red a wink. 

Razmarra made it to the door, and struggled to balance the mans head and the door, but she managed to look inside. 

In it…was not the chamber to the dragons. It was Daario Naharis himself. With his war council. At a meeting. 

All the men in the room looked up at her, their eyes fixing on the bloody hand she was holding. “Oops,” Was all she managed before they drew their swords. 

Raz slammed the door shut, “Red, the cart!” She said, taking her own knife and slashing through the attachments. She and Red grabbed hold of it and pushed. The cart careened to the door just as the men inside attempted to open it. “Run!” she shouted, and the four were off. 

She heard a cry as their mule fell, dead. She didn’t have time to mourn. They ran without a great deal of direction, just stayed together. Razmarra was fastest and took the lead, though was surprised Londa was right on her heels. Red, still futzing with his new leg, and Miklaz lagged behind. 

Downstairs, Raz thought, she had to get downstairs. They went aimlessly, and in what felt like moments the bells were ringing. 

Londa grabbed the back of Raz’s brown shift and pulled her into a cupboard. Red and Miklaz followed, all of them holding their breaths. “What now?” Red whispered as they stood cramped together. 

“Shhh,” Londa said, putting her ear to the door. There were voices shouting in various languages. “They say to…to protect the dragons!” She turned to them in the low lights. 

“If we follow them, we’ll find them,” Mizkal said.

“Yes,” Red Fly said, “And a whole contingent of soldiers alongside them.” 

Razmarra thought quickly, “Ok, ok, ok, new plan. We have to act fast.”

 

It was forever and only moments when they made it to the entrance to the door, the real door. Raz went by herself for now. This time Raz was sure, she recognized the door leading to the underground.

She also recognized the man who stood in front of her. It was Daario Naharis, the Mercenary King. “You know, I didn’t want to believe it,” He said, with an easy smile, “When the girls told me of slaves who had found and hatched dragons eggs….it seemed too far fetched. But then she showed me the dragons, and…they have always been a spectacle to behold.”

Razmarra held firm, the sword in her hand, “They are not yours.”

“They’re not yours either,” He said, “You stole them.”

“They are not anyone’s property,” She said, “We are their parents, we have cared for them. They belong with us.”

“You have no idea what your doing,” Daario said, stepping closer. “Daenerys has the blood of Old Valyria, where the Dragons are from. She was born a Queen. You…what were you born? A nurse? A cleaner?”

“A stable girl.” She said.

Daario snorted. “That explains why you’re so fuck ugly,” He said. She gripped her sword tighter, pointing it at him. “What do you think you’re going to do with that, stable girl? You plan on killing the me? Taking the throne of Meereen yourself? They will never worship a stable girl, if you live long enough to get that far. If your dragons hadn’t been taken, you’d have been burned to smithereens.”

Razmarra was out of words. With a loud yell, she stabbed at the King, who easily parried her. “Did you honestly think that would work?”

“No,” Raz said, “but this might.” 

Thankfully, Londa and Miklaz had heard the battle cry and taken it as a cue, lighting the small explosive they had set in the wall on the other side. She had never been more grateful Miklaz thought to buy it while they were preparing. It fell, large bricks crushing the men guarding the gate. Behind them, Red Fly ripped off his false armor, killing the guards around him, who hadn’t recognized he wasn’t one of their own. 

In the commotion, Daario lost track of Razmarra. By the time he got eyes on her again, she was pulling open the door, navigating through falling rocks and bodies.

She tumbled down the stairs, hearing battle behind her. Londa and Miklaz must have joined in the fight but she couldn’t see. She focused on the four shapes before her, tied to posts on chains, each chirping. 

She went to her own Hishari first. “It’s ok, my sweet,” she said, grabbing at the chain and undoing it. Hishari nipped at her fingers, hard enough to draw blood. “Stop, my dear,” but Hishari just squawked at her further. Confused, she went to the next dragon. 

She had only undone that second when Londa and Miklaz came rushing down, “Razmarra!” Miklaz yelled, getting her attention, “They’re coming!” She saw Red Fly standing at the entrance, holding back the soldiers as best as she could. 

“Get behind me!” Raz ordered the both of them. Londa listened, scooping up Lohaa as she went, but Miklaz disobeyed, going to unlock Kraz as Razmarra finished with Ash Oaf. 

A yell alerted Raz’s attention back to the stairs. Red Fly fell from them, tumbling to the ground, his leg broken off. 

The soldiers marched down, swords raised. Raz raised her own, without much of an idea of how to use it. Red Fly was the only one trained in fighting, and Londa and Miklaz were too weak. 

“Razmarra,” Miklaz said at her elbow, lining up beside her, knife in hand. Londa was on her other side, a rapier in her own. “The Valyrian word for fire is ‘Draecarys.’” 

Raz spared him a glance even as the guards stormed down on them. On her other side, Londa nodded. They saw Red Fly struggling on the ground, alive, but not for long if the guards got to him. “Draecarys!” The three of them shouted. 

The room exploded with fire in all directions. And then there was nothing. 

 

Daario looked over the wreckage, once the fire had died down. “How many soldiers did we lose?” He asked. 

“Approximately 15 men,” His guard said. Daario took a breath, smelling the smoke. He looked out where the wall had been destroyed. “No sign of dragon skeletons, though. They must have escaped and gotten loose in the city.”

Daario swallowed, knowing the danger of dragons better than most, and that was when they were under the control of Daenerys. “I want every man sweeping the city for them,” He said, “We should have killed them on sight. Put out a reward, 10,000 gold honors for every dragon carcass brought to me.”

“Yes sir,” the guard said, rushing out to obey the orders.

“Guard,” Daario called him back, “How many men did you say?”

“15, sir” the guard said. “Not counting the one we lost at the gate, and one at the meeting room.”

Daario did a quick count. 15 rib cages of fallen and burnt soldiers. He paced around to the bottom of the stairs where a pile of cinders lay, having formerly been something long and made of wood, like a log….or a wooden leg. “Where are the dragon keepers?” He asked. 

“Sir?”

“The four who somehow found four dragon eggs right under our noses, took over a noble house, hatched the eggs and then released them from this very room.” Daario said, “There were two women, a small boy, and a man with a wooden leg. Do any of these corpses match the description to you?” 

The guard looked around in panic, counting up the corpses himself. “Maybe they were burnt until there were no remains,” He suggested hesitantly.

Daario looked out the hole the dragons had escaped from. “Maybe,” He said, though he doubted it. One way or another, he had a feeling he would be seeing the Dragon Keepers again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this Novella! if you did, let me know at tumblr at dork-empress


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